Beyond - Legends "The Shadow of Fate" (SJRS Challenge: Episode VII) Complete! 29 August

Loved the "Truth Game". Mara's recollections about her childhood - so achingly poignant! And loved getting more of her back-story with Karrde. Trevin's reflections are like salt and vinegar on chips/fries, with more vinegar than salt.

 

The flashback is like a warm blanket: familiar, safe, and warm. But this is better because Mara's thawing out a lot faster! I stand in awe as always at your ability to tell two stories at once.

I'm not sure about Kara's grandpa and this other guy though. Not sure at all. They seem shifty.

Wonderful update!!

 

I also liked the history regarding Karrde. Come to think of it, it makes sense that this Mara's a bit more open. Those years of wandering alone and being hunted by former allies seemed to have left a powerful impression on her in the books. If she went straight into Karrde's organization, she didn't have all of that quite so much. Makes sense that without that betrayal/abandonment being so strong, the bitterness would have more weak spots.

 

You know I love this, lady. It's my new canon, after all. I love L/M's flashback, there, with Mara learning the truth about Daddy Darth. Always an interesting reaction to that news...

 

I couldn't help myself Sheev! Sheev! Sheev!

Mara's mother is in fact a known character - more will be revealed!

Of course she would! (That's why I had to make it just a truth game *ahem*)

Yep, politics

My version of Mara is a bit softer than Zahn's, partly because of no Last Command rattling around in her head and less time since ROTJ so she hasn't been stewing on her hatred for five years. She's had a bit of an easier life in this fic, so isn't as angry as Legends Mara.

I love Karrde, and wanted to come up with something a bit different for their relationship while keeping the spirit of Legends - I'm glad it works! Ah, Trevin, your observations are very accurate!

Mara is less of an ice-queen, since I didn't have three books to thaw her out in! Thanks, lady!

That's exactly right! She's still simmering about the loss of her former life and the death of the Emperor, but it was a smoother transition to trader so her life wasn't as harsh as it was in the profic, so she's more susceptible to Luke's...charm, so to speak.

@ Daddy Darth. I'm not sure if Mara ever confronts Luke with the knowledge in TLC, but I wanted him to actually tell her, here. It's a big thing to reveal, but he senses he can trust her with the information.

 

Oh, this is a great chapter. The flashbacks are wonderful and I want to squish the two of them. What's going on with Trevin and Trax, hmmmm?

 

Hmm, interesting, Mara's mother was a red-headed, armor-wearing warrior?

Huh...

 

*thinks on this some more*

Waitaminute...I'm probably totally wrong, buuuuut...

Spoiler

 

You read my mind.

 

Thank you! Luke and Mara get squished together in this much sooner than Legends, so there's that!

Spoiler

Ding ding ding! You're both right

 

NO WAI.



Well, stangit, now I have to research her, because I don't know the foggiest thing about her, LOL.

 

She's a pretty cool character.

________________


Chapter 15


1 NRE

As soon as they landed the Millenium Falcon on Myrkr, Han saw Leia tense and grow pale. Although Han could feel no change, he knew it could only mean that she’d lost contact with the Force just like her brother.

“You alright, honey?” he asked, concerned. “Can you feel Luke?”

“No,” Leia shook her head, her lip trembling. “I don’t feel anything.”

It had been expected, but Han could see that the reality of being blocked off from the Force was affecting his wife more than she had expected. He leaned over to the co-pilot’s chair and placed a hand over hers.

“It’ll be alright,” he told her softly.

“I know.” And as suddenly as it had come, Leia shook off her discomfort to give way to a steely resolve. It was the same determination she had shown on the first Death Star when she’d taken charge of her own rescue mere hours after her home planet had been destroyed, that had kept her cool and calm in the face of torture on Cloud City, that had seen her take down stormtroopers and Imperial officers despite a severe shoulder wound and great disadvantage on Endor. Leia Organa was on Myrkr to rescue her brother, and that was what she was going to so, Force be damned.

“Come on,” Leia ordered, already out the door and headed towards the Falcon’s ramp. Han followed, although he couldn’t deny the sliver of concern which had dug into his heart when hearing that he was going to be a father. He was ecstatic, of course, but Han knew they led dangerous lives, even now in peacetime, and was slightly worried that Leia could not draw on the Force to protect herself and her child if things went wrong.

Han stopped briefly in the main hold to collect Threepio, who they’d picked up from Wedge’s Star Destroyer in orbit above Myrkr - in case some protocoling needed to be done, Han supposed.

“Come on, Goldenrod,” Han said grumpily, and the droid shuffled over to him obediently.

“Oh,” Threepio fretted. “I do hope Master Luke is there. I don’t like this planet.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet, Threepio,” Han snapped at him. “Now keep up and stop complaining."

A muscular, dark-skinned man was waiting for them at the bottom of the Falcon’s ramp, arms crossed over his broad chest and a sour look on his face.

“Good afternoon,” Leia greeted him diplomatically. “I am Leia Organa Solo, Minister of Trade for the New Republic. This is my husband, General Solo.”

Han had stopped wincing every time he heard his military title, but he still didn’t like it. He nodded in greeting, but the man before them merely scowled,.

“I’m Aves,” he said shortly, refusing to shake the hand Leia had extended to him. “Communications Officer.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “Well your communication skills are excellent.”

Leia rested a hand on his arm, which Han knew as a firm signal to be silent. “I am looking for my brother, Luke Skywalker,” she said in her perfect diction which concealed simmering anger. “He was on this planet when I lost contact with him.”

“He’s not here,” Aves retorted. “Your troops have already searched the place, like they were the kriffing Empire or something.”

“Well you can’t deny that your operation here isn’t entirely legal,” Leia responded, an edge of steel to her voice. “I’m sure General Antilles has acted in accordance with New Republic guidelines.”

Aves sighed harshly. “Well if you want to search the place too, go ahead,” he said, turning on one heel and walking across the docking bay as Han and Leia followed. “I’ll show you around, but you won’t find anything. Skywalker’s not here.”

“Doesn’t mean he hasn’t been here,” Han muttered to Leia as they walked down the hallways of the base. Han noted that it was finely furnished, certainly better than most of the smuggling groups he’d seen over the years. He’d never dealt with Karrde personally, but knew him by reputation to be a cut above the average pirate.

Leia began to ask Aves questions about their operations, strongly hinting to her plans as Minister for Trade to legalise and regulate the smuggling industry. Aves softened slightly to that, but still clearly thought Leia was simply buttering him up. Of course, she was, but Han knew that her plans were genuine.

When they reached the heart of the base Han heard a familiar warble, and turned to see Artoo rolling with speed down the corridor, frantically followed by a young, fair-skinned man with blue hair.

“Ghent!” Aves gave the young man a look of steel. “What are you doing?”

“He escaped again,” Ghent defended himself. “It’s hard to keep an astromech in a locked room, they have all the keys!”

“Artoo Detoo!” Threepio said exuberantly. “Thank the Maker!”

“That is my brother’s droid,” Leia said firmly, and Aves scowled again, probably knowing he couldn't talk his way out of this one. “Where is Luke, Artoo?” Leia asked, crouching down to the droid’s eye level. Artoo let out a series of hoots and whistles in response, and they all looked at Threepio for translation.

“Oh dear!” Threepio fretted. “Artoo says he and Master Luke were being held prisoner here, in hopes of collecting a bounty. He was separated from Master Luke, and doesn’t know where they took him.” Artoo warbled again. “He says that this man,” Threepio indicated Ghent, “has been trying to access his memory.”

Han’s blaster was in his hand and pointed at Aves’ chest. “You better be more forthcoming, buddy.” Not only was Han worried for Luke if they were in the process of picking his droid apart, but Artoo had information would be disastrous if it was ever accessed and revealed.

Aves looked down at Han’s blaster and then back up, sighing with resignation. “I honestly don’t know where he is,” he told them. “Karrde took Skywalker and Jade and flew off when your Star Destroyer made contact. The plan was to take him to one of the other bases so when you searched here you wouldn’t find him. But he never checked in.”

“Who is Jade?” Han asked. “Another prisoner?”

“No, she’s second in command,” Aves explained. “Had a real grudge against Skywalker, wanted the boss to take the Hutt bounty.”

“A grudge against Luke, why?” Leia pressed, but Aves shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Could they have crashed?” Leia wasn’t about to be fobbed off. “Surely you should do a scan of the forest.”

“Can’t,” Aves said. “The earth and trees have this mineral that scrambles scanning circuits in the general area.”

“Well we must send out a search party,” Leia demanded.

Aves seemed unimpressed. “We don’t even know if they’re out there - Karrde could have gone dark deliberately, so I couldn’t tell you where he was. They could be off planet.”

“No,” Leia said resolutely. “If Luke was anywhere else, I would have been able to feel him.” She turned to her husband, putting an insistent hand on his arm. “Han, we have to go find him.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Han gave Aves a hard look. “You better get together your best men and women for a search party, or else,” he told him, brandishing his blaster still pointed at Aves’ chest. “And if you’ve heard of me at all, you’ll know I don’t bluff.”


***********************************************


29 NRE

Zeb and Jaina walked through the lower levels of Coruscant with an air of casual nonchalance. In an effort to blend in, Zeb had abandoned his usual stylish and expensive attire and pulled out some old clothes from the back of the closet. As he’d been thirteen the last time he’d worn them they were a bit tight, and so Zeb had used what he could and scrounged around for the rest. Syal Antilles had provided Jaina with something suitable from her own past undercover work, and so the two of them looked like any other street rats who dwelled in the seedier districts. Jaina had even incorporated her padawan tail into a complicated braid in her hair, so that there was no visible evidence that she was a Jedi.

Still, Zeb was anxious to be back in his old neighbourhood, and even more concerned about bringing Jaina there. He trusted in her abilities, of course - with her Force skills she could probably hold her own in a fight better than Zeb. And yet he knew that all of her training and all of the missions she’d been on had probably not prepared her for the grim violence and apathy of the lower levels.

He’d never really paid much attention to Jaina when he’d been taken in by the Solos and Skywalkers. While Zeb had lived in quarters at the Jedi Temple, he’d spent more of his time with those families than on his own, their open, welcoming warmth an alien concept to Zeb who’d had to fight for position in the gangs of his youth. Despite being the same age as Jaina, Zeb had naturally gravitated towards Micah Skywalker, who was two years older and more his style. Ben Skywalker had his Jedi training, Jaina had her starships and young Cilla asked too many questions. But Micah was a trickster - the odd man out in a family of would-be Jedi.

Master Skywalker had tested Zeb, naturally, after hearing his stories of survival on the streets. Yes, Zeb had a slight Force sensitivity, but despite living in the Jedi Temple he had no desire to be a Jedi. All that bunk about being passive and only using the Force for defence? It wasn’t Zeb’s style at all. He liked being in the rough and tumble of politics, the backdoor dealings, the persuasive methods used to get the right outcome of a vote, the thrill of outwitting another politician, the arguments in the Senate Chambers that sometimes went long into the night. It was much like gang life, Zeb reflected, only with less violence and more scheming.

Yet Micah had been away with Talon Karrde’s organisation for the last year, and as a consequence Zeb had been spending a lot more time with Jaina. He'd found that she was easy to talk to, and had never once been judgemental when he'd told her about his unsavoury past. Of course, his newfound appreciation of her had been helped by the fact that in the past few years she'd grown from a gangly teenager into a beautiful woman.

Still, as close as the now were, and while Zeb had told her much of his early life on the streets, it made him slightly anxious to actually bring her there. Knowing how he’d lived and the things he’d done was one thing; seeing it was quite another.

“Do you think they’ll be here?” Jaina asked him quietly so they couldn’t be overheard.

Zeb nodded. “Most likely - they’re creatures of habit.”

“Can you trust them to tell us anything?” Syal Antilles’ voice came through Zeb’s small earpiece. Since she was known in the district, she was keeping her distance behind them.

“Depends on what they know,” Zeb answered. Quix and Petar had always skirted on the wrong side of the law, but he’d never known them to be involved in anything too drastic - certainly not on the scale of terrorism. However, it had been several years since Zeb had seen either of them, and he knew all too well how people could change.

“Are you alright to be down here, Zeb?” Jaina asked, and he noticed that she’d turned off her commlink so Syal couldn’t hear her words. Zeb did the same.

“Yeah,” he nodded and smiled at her. “Of course.”

“You know its a bad idea to lie to a Jedi,” she responded, but gave him a sly smile.

“Well if I see one around I’ll be sure to watch myself,” he teased.

“Hmph.” Jaina turned her commlink back on as they continued down the dilapidated street where the neon signs from the various bars, gambling clubs and entertainments were the only lights. Gamblers, drunkards, spice addicts and other unsavory characters bustled around and paid them no mind.

Zeb directed them to the Red Rancor. It had been a popular hangout in his youth, the unofficial base of operations for his old gang the Denziens of Chaos. Prior to going on the mission, Zeb had made some discreet enquiries as to the status of that part of his past, and had been relieved to discover that in the seven years since he’d left the group they seemed to have moved on from the Rancor.

When he saw the state of the place, Zeb wasn’t surprised. The red lighting which was the bar’s trademark remained, although it was clearly no longer the fashionable hangout it once was, the few clientele consisting of older smugglers and spice addicts rather than energised youth. Zeb was relieved that they wouldn’t have a run in with the Denziens sincehe hadn’t left them on the best of terms.

“There they are,” Zeb whispered, indicating the tall Lasat and human male seated at the bar. They approached and Zeb clapped his hand on Quix’s shoulder in greeting.

“What’s up, bruv?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. But it only took two seconds for the pair to notice his and Jaina’s attire and guess that their reason for seeking them out wasn’t a social call. Still, Zeb was shocked when the two barrelled past him and out into the night. He had expected resistance, not escape.

“Blast!” Jaina said, going quickly after them. She and Zeb ran out into the street, and he could see that Syal was already on their tail, her blaster drawn. Zeb drew his own blaster as he ran, and Jaina pulled her lightsaber from where it had been concealed in her pocket but did not ignite it.

A stun blast from Syal’s blaster ricocheted off the a nearby building as Quix and Petar ran into a dark alley. But Zeb was younger and faster than either of them, and he quickly caught up with Petar, tackling him to into a permacrete wall and trapping his arm behind his back to keep him there, his other hand pressing the nozzle of his blaster into Petar’s back. Zeb glanced over at where Jaina and Syal had backed Quix up against the opposite wall, Jaina’s violet lightsaber blade cutting off his escape route.

“Come on now, ladies,” Quix raised his paws outward. “Let’s calm down now.”

“I think we were very calm,” Jaina said evenly.

“Yeah, so why’d ya run?” Zeb asked, pushing Petar’s arm further into his back, disappointed in his old friends. Before, he had not believed them to be involved, but their reaction to his appearance was cause for concern.

“Someone’s after you, you either kill them or run,” Petar said painfully, his cheek pressed against the permacrete wall. “Or have you forgotten Zeb?”

“So I should take comfort in the fact that you ran and didn’t try to kill me?” Zeb asked.

There was a beat. “Yeah,” Petar said softly.

“I knowns ya since you was a cub, Zeb,” Quix gave him a wounded look. “I wouldn’t hurt ya.”

“We just came to ask you some questions,” Jaina said evenly, deactivating her lightsaber and stepping back. Zeb released Petar, and the older man turned and leaned against the wall, rubbing his arm. Keeping one hand on his blaster, Zeb watched them both carefully.

“Yeah, well I know the fuzz,” Quix looked distrustfully at Syal. “It may start out with questions, but never finishes with them.”

“Only if you have something to hide,” Syal said in a clipped voice, although she sheathed her blaster. “If you know something about the attack on NRI headquarters.”

“We don’t know nothing,” was Quix’s retort.

Jaina narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

Quix grunted. “Bleedin’ Jedi.”

“Alright,” Petar held up his hands in defeat. “We weren’t involved, I swear that’s true. But there have been rumblings down here.”

“About what?” Zeb asked.

“Recruiting,” Petar explained. “They wouldn’t say for what, but they were after people who had a beef with NRI in particular.”

“So has that got anything to do with why the NR officers were looking for you the other night?” Zeb questioned, his voice hard.

“Nah,” Quix shook his head emphatically. “That was just for thievin’, bruv, I swear.”

Jaina raised a wry eyebrow, but Zeb wasn’t surprised - to people like Quix, petty crime was a necessity, it was simply how one survived on the lower levels. Zeb didn’t judge him, since he’d grown up the same way, and if not for the patronage of Leia he’d still be doing exactly that.

“Why would we want to attack the government?” Petar asked them. “The last thing we want is them swarming through here looking for terrorists.”

“Yeah,” Quix agreed. “You can’t game the system if the system ain’t there.”

“They’re telling the truth,” Jaina said, and clipped her lightsaber back to her belt.

“So these people who were recruiting?” Syal pressed.

“Young’uns,” Quix’s ears twitched. “Zabraks - the girl dark, the boy fair.”

Syal gave Jaina a knowing look, since they matched the description of the pair who’d overcome her and Micah. “So they came down here after they escaped headquarters,” she reasoned.

“Are they still here?” Jaina asked.

Petar shook his head. “Nah - they gave the hard sell to a few gangs and then get off planet.”

“But how?” Jaina queried, her brow furrowed. “Security’s tighter than ever.”

Petar chuckled. “There’s always a way off planet,” he told them.

“Care to share any details?” Jaina crossed her arms and looked annoyed.

Petar shrugged. “Not really.”

“Wasn’t there a Sith that was a Zabrak?” Syal asked, motioning to Jaina to drop it. "Micah said it looked like those two used the Force in their escape."

“Darth Maul and Savage Oppress?” Jaina asked with one eyebrow raised. “Come on, Syal, even if they weren’t both confirmed to be dead, Maul would be ancient by now.”

Zeb thought back to the history lessons he’d attended at the Jedi Academy, and from memory Darth Maul had come back from the dead before. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he had done it again. He certainly had a reason to hate the New Republic and the Jedi.

“He could have had offspring,” Zeb suggested.

“But it’s still a huge leap of logic,” Jaina argued. “We should focus upon what we know.” She turned her gaze back to Quix and Petar. “Or rather, what you know.”

“Did they say who they were working for?” Syal asked. Ever the consummate professional, she wasn’t about to argue a point once it had been lost.

“Some woman,” Petar shrugged. “They kept calling her the dark lady, said she would take care of anyone who joined them.”

“A dark lady?” Jaina mused to herself. “I don’t remember reading about anyone with that title.”

“Sure sounds like a Sith name, though,” Zeb pointed out, remembering all of the stupid titles he’d once gone through in the Jedi Archives.

“Did they take these recruits off planet with them?” Jaina asked, turning back to Quix and Petar.

Petar shook his head. “They gave them some kind of disc, said they’d be in contact with the details.”

“Can we go now?” Quix asked impatiently. “That’s all we know I swear.”

“Yes, you can go,” Syal agreed and Zeb looked at her in shock.

“What do you mean?” Jaina asked, equally surprised. “They know more.”

Zeb suspected the same, even without Jedi powers. He looked at Quix, and while his face was impassive, his whiskers and ears twitched ever so slightly.

“I’m sure they do,” Syal said, stepping closer to them with her hands held behind her back in military fashion. “That’s why they’re going to become NRI assets,” she smiled and tossed her blonde hair. “They’ll be our eyes and ears down here on the ground, and help us flush any collaborators out.”

“And why would we agree to that?” Petar asked petulantly.

Syal gave them a hard look, her steely grey eyes like ice. “You’ll find I can be very persuasive.”

 

Woot on the flashback Leia's consummate diplomacy and Han's steelly demeanor was very effective in getting information. This was mirrored perfectly by Zeb, Jaina, and Syal's interrogation and sleuthing. Got some good solid trails to follow.

 

Thank you! The plot is finally in motion

 

I really enjoyed the flashback. Han's commit about Aves' communication ability made me laugh. At least Aves takes his position as "Communications Officer " seriously. What I am wondering is why since Jaina is to going out her own missions and possibly close to facing her own Jedi trial,why has Mara not taken off to be with Luke and Ben. Especially since she had such upsetting visions and dreams. Great job and thanks.

 

I am behind - but have caught up -- and am still enjoying the 'two' stories -- thanks for keeping me tagged in.

 

Thank you! I enjoyed writing Aves' little cameo there Mara would love to take off and reign in Luke and Ben, but she's still Jaina's Master and has to keep an eye on her, plus she has to run the Jedi Order while Luke's away, so poor girl's stuck on Coruscant for the time being.

Thanks! I'm really enjoying writing my own version of the EU

 

Tags: Gemma





Chapter 16


1 NRE

On the morning of the third day Mara awoke with a start. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep and yet it seemed her exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her. It was a bitter reminder that she had fallen a long way from her skills and abilities as the Emperor’s Hand.

She flipped over and saw that Skywalker had already rolled up his sleeping roll, stowed it away in the pack and was leaning against a tree. Her eyes met his, and she realised that he had been watching over her while she slept, in case of a vornskr attack.

He said nothing, and so neither did she, rising and stowing away her own sleeping roll. The ration box was open between them, and Mara forced down a protein bar, feeling Skywalker’s eyes on her the whole time. The sky was grey above them, and it seemed as if a storm was brewing.

“We better get moving,” she said shortly after she had braided her hair, swinging the travel pack over her shoulder. She regretted the action almost immediately as the heavy pack hit against her back and scraped her injury, but Mara shrugged it off with a grimace.

They walked for some hours, and Mara was curious by his silence. Perhaps he was regretting telling her the truth about Vader the previous night. If the information got out, it would be damning blow not only to Skywalker’s credibility, but that of the fledgling new government.

“How did you find out about Vader?” she asked quietly, not certain that he would answer.

“Is this a continuation of our game?” he asked with an uneasy half-smile.

“No,” Mara said shortly. “I’m asking a question like a normal person, and it’s up to you whether or not you answer.”

Skywalker walked beside her for several long moments before speaking. “My Uncle Owen told me that my father had been a navigator on a spice freighter. He was my father’s step brother, you see, and when he and Aunt Beru...took me in, all they wanted to do was shield me from that world.” Skywalker fell silent again, his thoughts likely dwelling on the simple guardians who had sacrificed so much to raise him. “Just before I left Tatooine, Obi-Wan said that my father had been a Jedi Knight who had been killed by Vader - he didn’t think I was ready for the truth. So you were right,” Skywalker smiled grimly. “Ben did lie to me. And when I fought Vader on Bespin, he told me the truth after he cut off my hand.” His right hand flexed, and the action seemed involuntary. She wondered if the cybernetic part bothered him.

“So everyone who wanted to protect you lied to you, and Vader did neither,” Mara reasoned.

“Not then, no,” Skywalker agreed, and his hand flexed again. “He wanted to turn me. And yet even then he couldn’t bring himself to kill me when I refused. He’d been searching for me for so long - I guess ever since he heard my name.”

Mara look down at her boots, crunching through the undergrowth. “You’re right.”

“Oh?”

“The Emperor was furious that the Death Star had been destroyed,” Mara told him, and raised her gaze again. “He ordered me to find out who was responsible - this was before you became the literal poster boy for Rebel propaganda.”

Skywalker grimaced, and whether it was about her involvement in his past or his distaste for the propaganda machine she couldn’t tell. Mara thought back to the months following the destruction of the Death Star. While the Imperial Fleet was occupied with pursuing the Rebels from Yavin 4, she’d been charged with exposing the culprit. It had been easy enough to ingratiate herself with some drunken fighter pilots who weren’t shy about exposing their rebel connections. Once she’d had his name and home planet, it had been easy enough to collect information and report back to the Emperor.

“I guess once I told them about the Lars homestead, Vader knew exactly who you were,” Mara continued, carefully watching his reaction. “He must have been kicking himself,” she added lightly. “He’s the one who ordered the place razed when the stormtroopers couldn’t find the droids there.”

Skywalker swallowed heavily and looked deeply troubled. It must be difficult, Mara mused, for a man so mired in what he believed to be righteousness to know that his own father had inflicted some of his deepest scars. Skywalker could very easily have been in that homestead when it was searched, and Vader would not have had any more qualms dispatching a teenage boy than the farmers who lived there. Had Vader railed against himself, she wondered, when he’d realised how close he’d come to being responsible for his son’s death? Had that finally been what had broken him free of the Emperor’s hold?

She and Vader had left the Emperor’s throne room together after she’d made her report, and Mara distinctly remembered one of his gloved hands closing around her neck as soon as the doors had slid closed behind them. He hadn't even bothered to use the Force to choke her, his vice grip around her throat strong enough to lift her up and against the wall with one hand. He’d told her to be careful, and that one day she might not be so eager to run the Emperor’s errands. One day, there may be no further use for her.

At the time she’d dismissed it as one of Vader’s incomprehensible outbursts and had not linked it to the report she’d just made. Or if she had, it was only to believe that Vader had been jealous she’d found out the information before him. In retrospect though, his anger finally made sense. She had delivered the knowledge of Luke's existence to Palpatine, and in doing so had damned him.

“So what are your plans after all this is over?” Skywalker asked, and Mara refocused her attention. “Are you going to stay with Karrde’s organisation?”

“What else would I do?” Mara heard a rumble in the sky, and looked up at the dark clouds.

“You’re strong in the Force, Mara,” he said seriously, placing a hand on her arm. “You could be a Jedi.”

“A Jedi?” Mara scoffed, shaking off his touch. “Your New Republic will probably arrest me for war crimes, once you tell them who I was.”

“I won’t tell them,” Skywalker assured her. “In any event there was a general amnesty for Imperial soldiers,” he added. “They can’t prosecute you for anything you did under the Emperor’s order.”

“The amnesty only covers crimes committed before the commencement of the new government,” she reminded him.

Luke seemed amused. “Have you committed any crimes against the New Republic since then?”

“Well I don’t think they’re going to take too kindly to me killing you,” she told him seriously.

He laughed and continued to walk. Mara pursed her lips and halted momentarily, irritated by his amusement. Clearly, he no longer saw her as a threat, which presented an opportunity. A few drops of rain began to fall from the darkened sky.

“You know I’m not joking,” she called after him, wanting everything to be absolutely clear. It was only fair. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“If you say so,” Skywalker answered, and they stared at each other for several long moments. It began to rain heavily, and Skywalker laughed again, turning his face upwards so that the water splattered against his cheeks.

“Well, at least the vornskrs will leave us alone for a while,” he said cheerily.

“Ugh,” Mara replied. “Must you find an upside to everything?”

“So I’m a positive person,” Luke shrugged and began walking again.

Mara’s mind was whirling as she followed him slowly. He was correct that the vornskrs would likely return to their burrows because of the rain, which would mask their scent anyway. They were less than a day’s walk from the base, which was a distance Mara was sure she could cover alone.

This was her opportunity, while Skywalker was distracted and tired from two nights without sleep. Mara rolled the question over in her mind for several minutes as the rain continued to fall, surrounding them in a wet curtain and turning the earth below their feet to thick mud. Calming herself, Mara tried to recover her old assassins instincts.

Then she struck, heaving her body into Skywalker’s from the side and throwing him off balance, then landing a forceful punch to his face. He drew his saber but she was too quick, striking a blow against his wrist and sending the saber careening away and disappearing down a nearby slope. He ran after it, but Mara was quick behind him, locking her arm around his neck in a choke hold. She wasn’t sure how, but after a few moments struggle he pulled himself out of her grip and whipped around to face her.

He was certainly more skilled in hand to hand combat than some of her past opponents, but Mara had more practice. Skywalker also seemed to simply want to fend her off, whereas Mara was invested in victory. They both reached for the blaster in his holster, but Skywalker got there first, although she grabbed his wrist to point the nozzle upward and preventing him from firing on her, while at the same time hooking her leg around the backs of his knees and taking them out from under him. He dragged her down with him, and they both flailed in the slippery mud trying to clasp the weapon which had been knocked from his hand.

They struggled, but she found purchase in the mud first, her hand grasping the blaster. Mara launched herself to her feet and pointed it at him, her finger resting on the trigger. Still kneeling in the mud, Skywalker raised his head and looked directly down the barrel, then sighed and raised his arms in surrender and defeat.

“I told you the blow would come from the front,” she told him, breathing heavily and thumbing the setting from stun to full power.

“You don’t have to do this, Mara,” he told her, meeting her eyes rather than focusing on the blaster which was only a few inches from his head.

“Yes I do,” she told him shortly, even though her hand shook. “You have to die. I’ve never failed before.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she wondered if he could see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Fine,” he said, nodding. His arms still raised palms outward, he rose to his feet and Mara tracked his movement with the blaster. “If you think it will give you peace, then shoot.”

Her finger nudged the trigger, but she did not pull it. Mara bit her lip, trying to remind herself of why it needed to be done. Compliance, justice, revenge. But the Emperor hadn't told her the whole truth about Skywalker - what else had he told her about her marks to ensure that she felt justified killing them? How could she be sure of anything he had said?

“But do it on your own terms,” Skywalker continued, seeing that she was faltering. “You have a choice, right now. You can follow orders, and shoot me. Do what the Emperor could not and kill the last of the Jedi,” his voice broke on the last word. “Or put down that blaster, and choose your own fate. Come with me, if you like,” he added, his voice shaking. “So that I won’t be the last anymore.”

The rain fell heavily around them, but Mara still felt the hot tears upon her face. She’d heard people begging for their lives before, but never like this. Never had another's words touched her like Skywalker’s had; never had someone caused her to hesitate.

It was his loneliness, she realised, that had reached her; the isolation he felt being the last Jedi in existence, no one to share his knowledge with. His sister was strong in the Force, but she was focused on politics. He had many friends, but they did not have the connection to the Force that he did. For the first time, Mara realised that Luke didn’t just want to live – he wanted to be her friend, wanted to learn from her, and teach her in return. It wasn’t an apprentice he was seeking. It was an equal.

The Emperor had controlled her, made him an instrument of his will, had used her to commit what she may have been unjustified acts, and yet Skywalker was reaching out to her - Skywalker saw good in her, and only asked that she embrace it.

The blaster dropped into the mud by her feet. Skywalker closed his eyes and sighed with visible relief, and Mara wiped the tears from her cheeks angrily. He moved forward, as if to embrace her, but Mara stepped back out of his reach, wrapping her arms around herself defensively as the rain continued to fall heavily around them.

Then suddenly a massive beast crashed into Skywalker, flinging him to the ground a few metres away. The vornskr pinned Skywalker down, and Mara saw him struggle in vain as the creature dug its claws into Luke’s chest, making him cry out in pain.

Mara knelt down, fumbling in the mud for the blaster she’d dropped. Her fingers closed around it gratefully and she rose on her haunches, shooting at the creature. But the heavy rain obscured her vision, and the blaster bolts only succeeded in getting the beast’s attention. He looked over at her and growled ferociously, it’s whip-like tail flinging around and knocking the blaster out of her hands. She cried out in pain as the venom spread through her hands, and Mara stumbled back, trying to get out of range of the beast’s tail.

She slipped in the mud and went careening down a slope, her back hitting the base of a tree with a sharp thud. Mara winced, the bark scraping against her previous injury, and she scrambled in the mud to try and lift herself back up. Her fingers closed around something cold and metallic, and Mara pulled Skywalker’s lightsaber from the mud with fierce relief.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Mara climbed back up the slope to where Luke was physically tussling with the vornskr. His hands were clamped around the creature’s throat, keeping it’s jaws away from finishing him, but he was flagging and could not resist much longer. Mara crept up behind the creature as silently as she could, then at the last moment ignited the blade and plunged it into the creature’s back.

It collapsed lifelessly on top of Skywalker, who let out another cry of pain. Mara knelt down beside his prone form in the mud and with great effort pushed the dead beast off him.

“Skywalker,” she said urgently, examining the deep wounds in his shoulders and the dark blood staining his tunic. “Luke. Try to stay awake.” She patted his cheeks urgently.

His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a groan. “You could have let it finish me,” Luke rasped, his eyes on her face.

“No, I couldn’t have,” Mara told him, looking away deliberately. “We have to get you to shelter.” She looked through the dim light at the surrounding trees, her vision slightly blurred by the rain, but thought she saw a small cave in the distance. “Come on,” she ordered, and helped him rise. Skywalker groaned again, leaning heavily on Mara as she helped him to the cave.

She spread out his sleeping pallet and lay him down on it, lighting up a glowstick so she could see properly. The vornskr’s venom sunk further into her hands, but she ignored the biting pain. It was a slight injury compared to the massive claw marks in Skywalker’s chest. Mara used a vibroblade to cut off his ripped tunic, and she winced at the severity of the injuries, cleaning off the mud and blood as best she could with the healing stick and applying salve and bacta patches to the worst areas. Unfortunately they had few left, and Mara felt guilty knowing that she’d used one in an effort to fix her blaster, and others on her own injury.

“Thank you,” Luke said softly when she finished. He reached for her hand, his thumb running gently over the marks from the vornskr venom. The gesture was almost intimate and Mara felt a flash of unease.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Skywalker,” she told him coldly, pulling her hand away. “Just because I decided not to kill you doesn’t mean I like you. It doesn’t mean I want to be a Jedi and it certainly doesn’t mean that I won’t kill you in the future if you annoy me too much.”

Luke laughed weakly. “Noted.” His eyes fluttered closed again, and he quickly drifted off to sleep. Mara regarded him for a few moments, amazed that in sleep he seemed almost boyish, as if in finding his rest his burdens slipped away. His face was caked in mud, and Mara retrieved a rag from the survival pack and gently cleaned his skin, unsure of why his prone, unconscious form ignited a nurturing instinct within her.

The strangeness of the situation was not lost on her. Not half an hour before, she had been ready and willing to kill Skywalker, and now she was tending to his injuries and cleaning his face? It was absurd, and yet Mara did not stop herself from dampening the rag with water from the canteen to gently wipe the mud and blood from Skywalker’s cheeks. She noticed that he had deep scars running across one side of his face, and wondered how he’d gotten them.

Mara realised that despite her investigations there was a great deal she did not know about him. The uncertainty of that struck her deeply. She knew in her heart that what he’d told her about Palpatine had been the truth - he’d been right, on some level she must have always known his true nature. But she’d been willingly blind, too preoccupied with her own perceived importance, the privileges afforded to her and self-satisfaction in her abilities to ever question him. The knowledge sickened her, and yet freed her at the same time. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her, as if the Emperor’s voice in her head - his command to kill Skywalker - had dissipated into the ether.

He had more scars across his shoulders and torso, thin white lines which criss-crossed his pale skin in a fractal pattern. He'd told her that the Emperor had used Force lightning against him, and Mara was too familiar with its effects to believe the marks were anything else. But the scars were far worse than any she'd ever seen - Palpatine had only ever used the lightning on her once, when she was sixteen and had failed to complete a mission. The man she'd been sent to kill hadn't seemed guilty of the crimes levelled against him, and she had reported back to the Emperor that perhaps the intelligence he’d received had been faulty.

Palpatine had flown into a rage, for how dare she question his orders or believe herself a better judge of character and circumstances than he. He'd hurled lightning from his fingertips and it had been the worst five seconds of her life. Mara had spent the night in bacta, and the next day he'd been apologetic, visiting her in the medbay and stroking her hair in a fatherly fashion. She was still young, he'd said, and he understood her error but she had been given great responsibilities and he expected her to fulfil them. Otherwise, how could he trust her?

Mara had never questioned him after that, and if she ever second-guessed her orders, she only needed to run her hand over the white scars on her left shoulder and bicep to steel herself. She lightly traced Skywalker's marks which blossomed over his entire torso, more numerous and deeper than her own, indicating where his blood had boiled within his veins. He must have been very close to death, she realised, when Vader had stepped in to save him.

Skywalker jerked slightly in his sleep, and then began to shiver. Mara belatedly withdrew both blankets from the survival pack and lay them over him, tucking the edge under his chin and smoothing it down over his shoulders. She managed to find some wood which was not too damp from the rain outside and built a fire at the cave’s mouth to keep them both warm and ward off any more opportunistic vornskrs.

The venom in her hands was making her skin swell, and they ached terribly, but she’d used the last of the healing stick and bacta patches on Skywalker. She cut the remaining rags into long strips with the vibroblade and bandaged her hands as best she could, the pressure increasing the pain shooting through her palms and up her fingers, but Mara knew it would be worse if left to swell.

Then she retrieved his lightsaber and blaster from where she’d discarded them on the ground and sat back against the wall of the cave, ready for her night-long vigil.


**************************************************************


29 NRE

“So what is this planet again?”

Toula looked over at her half-brother Whit, who had looked up from his datapad to glance out the viewscreen of their Firespray as she finished the landing cycle. The sky above them was yellow-hued on account of the high sulphur deposits which leaked from the planet’s core, and in the distance loomed a gigantic military fortress.

“Bastion,” she reminded him. “We’re here to see Vilim Disra.”

“The Imperial,” Whit nodded, remembering. Disra had been a Moff under the Empire, or so Toula’s research had informed her. After the fall of the Empire and in the age of the warlords he’d entrenched himself in the Sartinaynian system and his compound on Bastion. He’d been the last Imperial lord to fall to the New Republic, but had been cleverer than his predecessors in that he’d pursued negotiations rather than surrender or annihilation. He acknowledged the jurisdiction of the New Republic through lip service only and continued to administer to the system as he saw fit, acting as both governor and senator, although he never went to Coruscant. As it was a sparsely populated collection of worlds there was no opposition to his rule, and the NR government were hardly concerned with a system where there was no conflict, allowing Disra his peculiarities. His continued devotion to the fallen Empire had earned him the nickname “The Imperial.”

“Do you think he will agree to our mistress' plan? Whit asked, glancing at the compound on the distance, his gaze lingering on the fortified gates and heavily artillery guns.

“I think he would agree to any plan that sees the New Republic suffer,” Toula said, inclining her head as she considered the matter. “We will soon find out.”

Whit grunted dismissively and refocused his attention on the datapad - he prefered machines to people, and usually let Toula do the talking. He was her younger by only six months, as evidenced by the slightly smaller horns which crowned his head. Neither one had known their shared father well, having being raised in his harem on an Iridonian colony. Still, it had been a blissful childhood, until their father’s compound had been attacked by a rival. Whit and Toula had been the only ones left alive, and forced into slavery. Those years had been almost unbearable for the both of them, and Toula felt her blood start to simmer just thinking about it. She channeled it, as she had been taught, into the mission.

Toula watched her brother tapping away at his datapad, and wondered whether she should leave him to it and go meet Disra alone. It had been weeks since they’d stolen the datapad from New Republic Intelligence, and yet he was still working to crack their codes. Whit was useful in a combat situation, but he was a poor negotiator, and Toula weighed up the advantage of having him as backup against the need to access the NRI information in the datapad.

But before she could make up her mind, sudden flash of pain struck through Toula’s body and she momentarily went blind. It was agony, and yet it passed as soon as it had come. She knew that it could mean only one thing.

“The Dark Lady calls to us,” Toula pressed one hand to her temple, knowing that Whit could feel it too from the way he’d shut his eyes tightly.

Their mistress never commed them directly, instead sending out her desire to speak with them through the Force. If Toula and Whit did not call her immediately, she would send them a second message - this time much more painful. So Toula set to work typing in the complicated codes into the cockpit’s comm unit that would scramble their signal and ensure their call could not be traced.

The Dark Lady appeared in hologram, although she wore a black robe with a hood that covered her face to conceal her appearance. Toula had never seen who her mistress was, not even when she and Whit had visited her compound.

“Hello, my young apprentices.” The Dark Lady’s cool, crisp voice cut through the air. “What news do you have for me today? Have you accessed the New Republic files yet?”

“We are still working on the datapad, my Lady,” Whit said, throwing Toula a nervous glance. He was exceptionally skilled in mechanics and slicing, his natural ability enhanced by the cybernetic augments in his brain and arms. And yet the New Republic security systems on the datapad they’d stolen from Coruscant had so many layers of encryptions Whit had been unable to hack it. Yet.

“Has this simple piece of machinery eluded you?” the Dark Lady asked sardonically.

“I’ve gotten through ninety levels of encryptions already,” Whit defended himself. “The NR security protocols are the best in the galaxy, I just need more time.”

“An excuse means nothing,” the Dark Lady retorted. “Only results matter.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Whit bowed his head. “I will not fail you again.”

“Well, Toula,” the Dark Lady turned her cowled head towards the pilot’s chair. “I hope your report is more elucidating.”

“We have already recruited several to our cause, my Lady,” Toula said hurriedly. “They are most eager to assist.”

"They are most eager to be paid, you mean," the Dark Lady pointed out. "But that is no vice. We must all survive one way or another."

“We’re on Bastion now, my Lady,” Toula added. “As scheduled.”

The Dark Lady chuckled to herself. “Ah, yes, Disra,” she said. “No doubt he will be eager to assist as well, and will likely not require the same incentives as the others. Remember, children, once you know what someone wants, that is all you need to offer them. For some, its credits, for others, power, and more often than you may think, revenge.” The Dark Lady nodded to them. “Until next time, my dears.”

The image of their mistress disappeared and Whit went back to working on his datapad, eager not to disappoint the Dark Lady again. But the words turned over in Toula’s mind: credits, power, revenge.

She was not naive, and knew that her mistress was speaking of her and Whit as well. They wanted all of those things; enough credits to live in the luxury they’d only breifly known, the power to make others do their bidding as they had been forced to serve others in their youth. Revenge, certainly, against those who had enslaved her and Whit, those high-ranking men who had flourished under the Empire and yet been fetted by the New Republic despite the atrocities they’d committed.

And finally, revenge against the Jedi, those beings whose Clone Wars had destroyed the Zabrak homeworld Iridonia so many years before Toula’s birth. It was because of the Jedi that she had never hunted in the rainforests, had never hiked the red canyons or swum in the black seas. The planet had been made uninhabitable when in the final days of the Clone Wars the Jedi had dropped a Fission bomb from space to eliminate their Separatists enemies.

And yet it was the Zabrak who had paid the price, despite the claims from the Jedi that they’d evacuated civilians. Although intellectually Toula knew that the new Jedi Order was not responsible for the actions of the old, as her mistress had told her they were still spun from the same evil cloth, and that the Jedi Order no matter how well intentioned would inevitably cause only harm to others.

And yet, beyond the thoughts for revenge, Toula wanted knowledge. The Dark Lady had started to teach her and Whit how to unlock the power she and Whit had inside themselves, to use their darkness and hate to do wonderful things. Not only to follow in the footsteps of their forebears Maul and Oppress, but to eclipse their successes.

Toula didn’t care about the Empire, or the Republic, or even what her mistress planned to do with the army she was gathering. As long as she and Whit got what was owed to them, that was all that mattered.

 

That flashback.

Excellent as always. The plot thickens!

 

Yes, the incomparably fine flashback! Loved how Luke was able to dissuade Mara from her self-imposed task of finishing him off. Her musings about Palpatine and Vader certainly show she's giving all Luke has told her due thought. Her actions surrounding the vornskr attack definitely speaks volumes.

~~!

Ah! More villains and the web of scheming foes increases.

 

Ah, this is good.

That flashback, though. I could see it playing out perfectly in my head. Well done!

 

I loved the flashback.

 

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO MY FEELS?






(And I was literally eating raw onion with my lunch, but nope, this is way worse.)

This poignant tension is SO much more satisfying, as great as Zahn's effort still was. FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, MARA, AAAAGGGHHHHHH, it's so beautiful. Seriously, this is like high-quality organic, free-range h/c. Yes, indeedy, DAT FLASHBACK.

 

Luke and Mara had a very busy day. After looking down the barrel of that blaster and having that nasty critter jump on his back, I bet poor old Luke had to change his underwear. Great job as always.

 

Sweet!