The Storm - Sequel to The Art of War

Yikes! [face_panic]

A very relevant question, at times like this. I hope they find Luzaya soon. If only for the fact that her mere presence will help sooth the political infighting that must be going on within Yana's domain.

Who is the second to the throne? Do they even have a vice-executive? Will that someone be from the Advisory Council? Does it make pretty Councillor no. 3 in line then?

Questions that need answers!!!

Good post!

 

....By your leave?

Yana if she had her father's desposition: "Yes, allow me to show you to the nearest, unoccupied airlock."


And gee whiz: talk about Deja Vu? Didn't this successor business come up before?

BONKERS!

 

It did, and this is indeed a deja-fu.
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He had been walking aimlessly, seeing and hearing nothing, too consumed by his wife's darkness to even care. What was going on inside her head? Why did she not trust him any longer? It hurt so much to be so misunderstood by the one person he loved above everyone else, even his own child. But the ties that bound him to Yana seemed to be even thicker than blood. They knew each other heart and soul, they were one mind, or had been, for so long. But now everything had changed. Lips compressed into a tight line the Royal Consort curled his right hand into a fist and lay it upon his chest, but that gesture did nothing to calm the storm that raged in his heart and mind. Yana had made it abundantly clear that she would not be reasonable. How often had he warned her of her temper? Too often. And even though she had apologised to him, her husband felt that something had been broken between them. The very thought made him feel afraid.

She had given him hope when he'd had none, had given him purpose when all he could see was death and destruction. He had believed in her so very hard that she had become larger than life in his eyes. She was his sun, his everything. But now her glorious shine was fading, devoured by her own sorrow and worry over Luzaya's fate. Thinking of her reaction to their daughter's disappearance made Franzis feel angry all of a sudden. Though she had not said it outright, he knew that secretly she blamed him for the danger Luzaya now found herself in. And that was very painful indeed. Did she believe him so cold to leave his daughter behind at the mere glimpse of danger? He would never do that. Never. And yet he had been terribly sincere when he had cautioned her to never think him in her place. He could never succeed her, never. He was not fit to bear that responsibility. Not fit to make decisions so grave. He needed her to turn his policies into something more humane that what he envisioned. During his training as Imperial Agent and assassin it had been drilled into him to be cold and rational. He had taken those lessons to heart and could not forsake them. It was different when he was with his family, of course. But not so different that he could ever forget what he had been taught.

To seize any opportunity possible to destroy your opponent.

It did not matter whether the victim was diminished physically or mentally, all that mattered was total victory. If Franzis were allowed to do as he pleased he would purge the Sith Empire's government of every corrupt, every inefficient, every dishonest individual alive. If he were to decide, he would have made Naas Deron breathe every single secret he held about the conspiracy that was worrying Yana and him so. But that was the catch, wasn't it? He was not in charge. And Yana held a mirror to his face with her outbursts, reminded him of being reasonable, of being cunning rather than cruel. But what if that was the wrong path? What if Yana was right?

He stopped his aimless pacing when a shadow loomed large over his path. Looking up, Franzis Sarreti found himself standing in the entrance to the Temple of Rebirth. A cold smile flashed across his lips then, and he wondered whether he had been guided here by more than just his bad conscience and anger. He had wanted to speak to Deron anyway, hadn't he? Stepping into the cool interior of the sanctuary he felt strangely at ease when the darkness enfolded him whole and he strode toward the altar set into the midst of the giant chamber that had seen so little worshippers so far. None were present at this time of day. But the sanctuary's guardian was there, clad in black, as always, waiting for his visitor. Naas Deron, his dark hair and almost black eyes melting into the shadows surrounding him, making his physical form appear like a shroud containing living darkness, did not say a word as Franzis moved to join him.

"You refused to help me once," the Royal Consort said calmly, his grey eyes looking into the Cor'dan'

 

Well, you know what they say: let others write the laws.....

This is a fine kettle of fish. Now, Nass has a divine right now to do what he wants, and thanks to those in the Imperial Know others will follow.

FORWARD!

 

ARRRGGGGHHHH.


Sorry. There goes happy ever after.

 

There is goes indeed ... As you can see, I did find some time this weekend to write
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Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master and currently trying to edge his ship through the dense traffic around Nirauan, felt like cursing. He should have known that Domain Carr would not stay idle. Space around the former Chiss outpost was fairly teeming with ships. Not worldships, but the new types, sleek vessels that could move at deadly speed and that the New Republic navy feared with reason. But he had believed that the best way to begin his investigation would be the stronghold of Yana's staunchest enemies. Domain Carr had always refused to bend to the Empress' rule and had rather chosen exile in this remote sector of the Empire than make the humiliating journey to Byss and ask to be included on the Advisory Council.

Luke knew, of course, that he would be seen as enemy too, once he revealed his identity. It had been his father, after all, who had killed the Domain's proudest member, the late Warmaster Marayl Carr. So far the Jedi Master had not given much thought on how he was going to approach the domain's elder. But perhaps he would not even have to bother with that. From Domain Carr's hostile stance toward the Empress he had concluded that they would not look kindly upon any alien race to settle on Nirauan. Therefore the unannounced arrival of a human would certainly draw attention, perhaps even the elder's attention. Luke would only have to survive long enough to get to speak to him or her.

But as he edged the Morning Glory closer toward the major port, he saw that there were other non-Yuuzhan Vong ships in approach toward the planet. Most of them he recognised as belonging to the Corporate Sector, a territory he knew very well too. He was both pleased and concerned by this find. On one hand it meant he would blend in much better than anticipated and would have the opportunity to gauge the mood incognito before he approached the domain but on the other hand this posed a very obvious question: what dealings did the Corporate Sector have with Domain Carr? He was still mulling over that when he gained permission to land for a moderate fee, which surprised him no less than the presence of Corporate Sector ships.

After having settled the formalities with the dockmaster, Luke decided to have a look around the port and felt reminded of many a previous adventure. By custom, he sought out a bar first, and found one not far from where his ship was berthed. It was a shed, really, but well frequented. Easing his way into the crowd, the Jedi Master kept his senses alert. Since it was impossible to gain a place in one of the booths, he settled for positioning himself halfway between the bar and the kitchen. Usually, there would be a second exit into the backyard through the kitchen, and he wanted to be prepared, just in case. He had just ordered a drink when a tall alien brushed past him carelessly, almost pushing him over. The alien, a Falleen, turned his head to look at whoever had dared bar his path that way, and gasped in surprise once he became aware of Luke. But then the alien shook his head, as if dismissing a thought from his mind, and went about his business. Luke followed him instantly. .

"Excuse me. Sir," he began, his voice low but powerful.

The Falleen turned, mustered him coolly, then crossed his arms over his chest, "Do you want an apology, or what, human? Well, you won't get it. And now be off. I have no wish to converse with you."

"No?" Luke smiled and edged a little closer. "I believe you thought you knew me. I was wondering who it was I reminded you of."

"And why should I tell you?" the Falleen snarled, "You are either an arrogant prat or a yearling. You're too old for the latter, so I assume you're simply too stupid to know what is good for you."

"You might be mistaken;" Luke answered softly and drew back his cloak for a brief moment to reveal the handle of his lightsaber that hung from his belt. "My name is Luke Skywalker. I am certain you have hea

 

He was a little surprised to find himself alone in his prison, a simple room with no windows and a single bed bolted to the floor. As dreary as any he had ever seen, as captive or captor. Restlessly pacing the small expanse of the room, to the bed and back to the three stairs that led down into the room from the door, Franzis Sarreti felt anxious for his wife. Where was she? Jiliha had not spoken to him once he had been put under arrest, and his questions concerning the empress had fallen on deaf ears. But he had hoped that they would be put in this cell together, a foolish thought, he admitted in hindsight. Jiliha was not so stupid as to allow the couple to reassure one another and make plans to escape together. All the more bewildered was the Royal Consort when the door opened after a few hours and two soldiers helped his wife into the small room.

Franzis' heart skipped a beat with the joy of seeing her. A nasty gash was cut across her forehead, and he winced at the sight. Obviously Jiliha had thought of ridding the Empress of the neural implants that would allow her to communicate with the great yammosk on Kynda'bey, the distant ocean world. With the yammosk's help Yana would have been able to exert control over every other Yuuzhan Vong implanted with the controllers, which were most of the soldiers and high ranking priests. It had been one of the anchors Franzis had set his hopes in, but seeing Yana like this ruled out that possibility. Easing toward her concernedly, he reached out to embrace her, and the soldiers released their quarry to let her weight rest on him alone instantly. Staggering back with a grunt when her knees gave way and she fell into his arms heavily, Franzis sank to his knees in confusion, Yana still wrapped in his embrace.

"Yana?" Gently wiping the sweat-soaked threads of blonde curls from her face he raised her chin to look into her eyes. She did not react. There was no flicker of emotion on her features, no recognition in her eyes. They had not been blinded, he could tell, but somehow she did not seem to register him at all. Suddenly fearful, Franzis began talking to her rapidly. "What happened? Yana, can you hear me?"

No reaction at all.

For a moment he sat like that, his wife cradled in his arms, and his mind was totally blank. Only gradually did his brain resume working and soon supplied an explanation for the state Yana found herself in. Her brain had been damaged by the operation, it had to be that. And if he knew Jiliha at all, she would have ordered that done deliberately. The revelation caused his heart to shrink a little more, and he drew in a sharp breath, wanting to cry out in despair, but unable to. Not with Yana in his arms. Not when she needed him to be strong. Not when he was her only hope of salvation. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he hugged his wife closer, and kissed her mutilated forehead.

"It'll be all right," he assured her in a whisper, "You'll see."

She did not respond, staring into the distance indifferently as he slipped her left arm around his shoulder and hoisted her upright. Walking carefully, he dragged her limp body over to the single bed and put her down very tenderly.

"You're in shock, Yana," he explained, speaking more to himself than to the woman who lay unmoving on the thin mattress and continued gazing at the ceiling. "You'll recover. I'll be there for you, my love. Always." He sat down on his haunches beside the bed, his elbows resting on the bed-frame, his chin settled on his hands. "Shall I tell you a story?"

So he began his tale, talking until his voice was raw. And when the light in the cell went out, he wrapped Yana in the single blanket to make sure she was not cold. He did not sleep that night. But Yana never woke from her stupor.

By the next morning his hope had dwindled a little further away. Where was Naas Deron? What was the Cor'dan doing? What was the Advisory Council doing? Did it still exist? And if so, in what constellation? Who was supporting Jiliha, and who was secretly, or openly, opposing her? All

 

Dang, I didn't mean to miss that last post...

At least Luke is finally going to go do something. Interesting to find a connection to his family past. Nice tie in there.

And that's what you get when you put too much faith in Nass Deron; a wife with parts of her identity removed.

FORE!

 

Ouch ouch ouch ouch.

 

Ouch indeed.
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Alowyn Kattaran certainly was not like any NRI agent they had ever encountered, that was something Jaina found out very quickly. He was moody and moved as if he were uncomfortable with his surroundings. Even aboard his own ship. It made her wonder what had happened to him to make him hate the Yuuzhan Vong and the Sith Empress and her consort that much. The young woman had met both Luzaya's mother and father. In fact, she remembered blissful days she had spent on Byss with the princess, playing the days away. No matter what, Franzis Sarreti would come around every few hours to check on the children himself, never trusting the nannies and guards assigned to care for them. To Jaina he had always seemed gentle, a caring father, much like her own, with the distinction that Franzis Sarreti never stooped to playing alongside the children, as Han Solo had done. He would sit down somewhere quiet and read some report or other, content with his daughter being within arm's reach. Yana Dar had never participated much in family life, as far as Jaina could tell. She had seen her once or twice as a child, and she had appeared polite but distant. Nothing about either one had struck her as being particularly loathsome.

And Luzaya adored her parents.

Seated on her bunk aboard Kattaran's ship, knees hugged to her chest and her chin resting atop them, Jaina was thinking about her own parents. She'd had a happy childhood, she thought, with her twin brother as companion, sheltered and loved by their parents. They had always ben there, even when Mother had been off world on a mission, the children could always contact her, if needed. Sheltered lives. And now? Now they were truly on their own, travelling with a man they did not trust, and she had the distinct feeling that neither she nor her brother had any idea what it truly meant to bear all responsibility themselves. A hard lesson then. Her grand-father would have approved, she mused, wondering what Anakin was doing right now. With a sigh she unfolded her legs and stood, determined to find Jacen and talk to him. About what, she wasn't yet sure. But being in Jacen's presence was better than spending even more time mulling over the future on her own.

It came to her then, very suddenly, that Luzaya was not the only one who loved her parents unconditionally. And yet, just as the Solo twins had done by deciding to follow Alowyn Kattaran, she, too, had realized that it was time to go on without her beloved mother and father. The thought was elating, somehow, but there was a bitter-sweet touch to it also. Shaking her head ever so slightly, Jaina smiled wistfully, then went in search of her brother. It was then that she caught first sight of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned around swiftly, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Carefully, a cold shower raining down her back, she turned back again, toward the forward hold of the ship, where she could sense Jacen to be, meditating, she thought. And there the shadow was again. This time she forced herself to remain calm and tried to make out anything that would tell her what that shadow meant. Reaching out to the Force she committed to its flow and tried to touch the wraith, but there was nothing to hold on to. Edgy now, the young woman turned her head ever so slightly, making it seem a casual move, and then, for a tiny moment, she saw. Her breath caught in her throat as she was reminded of a story Luzaya had told her proudly, oh so many years ago. Of a little boy, clad in soft leather pants, his young body already showing the signs of a hard life, yet his eyes, pale green, sparkled with mischief and wonder. Black braids framed his thin face, and there was a solemn air about him that Jaina had come to know too, had seen before on her grand-father's face.

She knew that boy.

Unable to control her fear and surprise, Jaina responded instinctively, and rounded on the spirit, meaning to confront it. Running never was an option, that she knew. Not with this

 

Yeah, what does it mean? Is it mearly the past in repeat, or is it a metaphor of things to come?

Can't wait to see. Great writing.

 

A long one.
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Far away, on the planet called Byss, Naas Deron felt a subtle change in his own heart, a signal of sorts that alerted him to the workings of an alien presence in his realm of power. A disturbing discovery, especially now that he was trying to think up a plan of attack and defense that would suit his situation and purposes. Jiliha n'Averone would make her claim to the Empire's throne soon, but she would first need to sow the seeds of trust she needed to have the New Republic show toward her. Her allies within that realm would be busy aiding her cause, he was certain of that. But there was still Luzaya to consider. Contrary to her parents he knew where his young charge was. Yet the presence of a pair of Chiss agents with her had now brought another player into the game. The Chiss Emperor was a cunning creature and his motives selfish where they concerned his people. How would he react to the news of Yana's apparent betrayal of her people? Would he accept Jiliha in her place? Deron doubted it. Then what choice did the Chiss have? Fight the Sith Empire and thus pitch the New Republic against itself? Not a happy thought.

"Cor'dan." It was Cordell Tryway who approached him cautiously, not wanting to disrupt the priest's musings.

"Any news?" Deron asked likewise, not even looking at the man.

Tryway fidgeted for a moment, then sighed. "I tried to ask around, as you suggested, Excellency," he offered. "And I found a few who thought n'Averone was wrong to push this issue of treason. They ? say that the Vong deserve it anyway." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not what you wanted, is it?"

"Not quite," the Cor'dan amended.

He needed allies, yes, but not allies who were only willing to assist him in order to punish the Yuuzhan Vong. But how to get them on his side? How to inspire them? His thoughts began to drift then, as an idea unfolded. What was it they feared most? A Yuuzhan Vong uprising. If he gave it to them it would drive them toward Jiliha's camp, which would be exactly the opposite of what he needed. And Jiliha would not be so stupid as to move against the human citizens of the Empire, lest she lose their loyalty. In fact, it came to him that there had been only one person in the past who had understood how to balance the needs of the Empire's people, and that was Yana Dar. But the empress was incapacitated, and her husband alongside her. The fool. Naas Deron shook his head grimly at the man's stubbornness. Unfortunately the Cor'dan could not see a clear path yet. Too muddled was his vision, too uncertain the allegiance of those he depended on. And now this unknown presence that threatened to interfere, that did interfere, sensed like a faint stirring in the distance. He could not pinpoint its location, nor could he even guess at its identity.

It was truly disturbing him.

With a suppressed sigh he straightened in his seat and gazed out into infinity, thinking. Perhaps a catalyst was needed to remind the people of the Sith Empire of the value of unity. But what catalyst could that be, what could he use without jeopardizing his goal? What common ground was there between Yuuzhan Vong and what other species the Empire housed? There was only one answer, he knew. He had nurtured it over the years, along with the Empress herself, a wild spirit that swirled like a torch through the bitter ranks of long-grown hatred. Where she went the darkness lit up with fondness and joy, and she did it unconsciously, just by being herself. Luzaya. And if Jiliha ever dared threaten her, she would be done for. Deron did not doubt a minute that killing Luzaya Dan was exactly what the new Empress strove for; that she would never voice that particular aspect of her strategy aloud went without saying. She would pretend to worry for the princess, call on her to return, call on Mahel Sivaraya to release the girl ? And thereby increase the hatred for the Yuuzhan Vong. How could her true intentions be exposed?

A low growl emanated from his throat. He could not affor

 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Niffty on all fronts, and now we have visions of the past and shadows of the future and everyone's practically on Korriban. What could it all mean?

Oh yeah: they're on Korriban.

FORWARD!

 

Are they still on Korriban? You sure?

Ah, btw, for anyone wondering about my swear-word replacements, this dates back to my early youth, when I was too much of a little shisser to call anyone names. "Numba", as far as I recall, is the word under which Rulaman's clan refers to stone-age rhinos. Fat, ugly and dangerous etc. You get the picture.

 

It was dark, once more, as the Cor'dan made his way through the empty streets of the poorer quarters of Byss' royal city. His senses were stretched to their limits as he drank in the night, aware of everything, letting the impressions flow through his mind unchecked, guided by more than being fully aware of where he was going. Inside the shell that was his body Naas Deron's presence was floating in the protective embrace of his power, content for now to let events flow before him. But there was a hint of anticipation in his soul too. Where was he going? For what purpose? He did not know, and so far he had not yet grown accustomed to this passive state of awareness that Anakin Skywalker for one seemed to have been able to suppress in his time as Cor'dan. Idly, Deron mused about Roj Kell, then, and wondered how that independent-minded creature had come to terms with three thousand years of this. The conclusion to that thought came promptly: he hadn't.

A cool smile appeared on Deron's lips then, and gently he reasserted control over his own body, a sign for his having come to his destination. It was a Yuuzhan Vong dwelling, brimming with life, and the Cor'dan wondered briefly how he could ever describe to any of his acolytes what he was feeling right now. He couldn't. And that was a fact. His skin felt raw and overly sensitive, his eyes were blinded even by the darkness as he watched the currents of life that permeated the entire structure. It was a beautiful yet terrifying feeling, and he would regret having to give it up one day soon. But that was still in the future. The present was now. He recognised the dwelling at last, and smiled in understanding of what was required of him. Quietly stalking across the expanse of what passed as the living room he slipped into the quiet back of the building, where its owner slept fitfully, unaware of his presence.

He stood for a while, gazing down at her sleeping features, before he dived beneath that surface and into her subconscious mind. Vengeance, fury, triumph and fear crashed into his own self, making him stagger back for a moment. It took some strength to overcome the assault of her emotions, but once he had managed his expression turned very grim. She had known, just as he had suspected. Gently, he lowered himself down to sit on the edge of her sleeping bunk, then extended a hand to brush across her cheeks. "Wake up," he whispered softly. "Wake up."

She stirred, mumbled something in her own tongue, then her eyes fluttered open and her body went rigid as she recognised him. Her body jerked upright instinctively, but Deron's palm moved down over her chest to hold her back. "No fear," he murmured soothingly.

"What do you want?" Alyn Cha demanded, fear swirling about her like a swarm of piranha beetles.

Naas Deron smiled. "The truth," he replied. "Confirmation for what I know."

"I thought you knew everything," she snapped, anger lancing through the cloud of fear like lightning.

"Ah," he admitted, smiling. "But knowledge does not necessarily equal understanding. Domain Carr is not involved in this conspiracy, as you wanted to make Yana Dar believe. Does Jiliha know? Or care?" he continued bluntly, his almost black eyes resting unwaveringly on the priestess' face.

She gazed at him, her mind racing to sort through the implications of his quiet confession. But she could not possibly know how much he truly understood. Finally she answered, "Jiliha does not care. But she knows."

"And what do you stand to gain from that domain's demise?"

"You tell me," she hissed.

"You served Marayl Domain Carr faithfully, did you not? And your father betrayed him when he chose to accept Yana Dar as Empress. Which was why he had to die."

"I hate her," Alyn Cha pressed out. "She has destroyed my people, their pride, their heritage."

Naas Deron gave a solemn nod. "It had to die, Alyn Cha," he explained softly. "Sometimes change is needed in order to make survival possible."

"We could have won," she sobbed, her emotions flowing freely now, sucked into t

 

Nass is getting in your head.

He's right: this is just another way of someone using people to take control of something. But is it just one person?

Ah I think he left that up in the air.

FURT!

 

Girls and boys,

as of today Dark Legacy will cease to be updated on this board and continue on my website instead.

Since I don't have the time anymore to post as regularly as I woulod wish to, and since this was supposed to be my last SW fic on the boards anyway, I'm offering a mailing-list service for anyone who's interested in continuing to read my fics.

Let me know.

If not, you'll know where to find me

Thanks guys, it was tremendous fun.

 

You're welcome, and hell yeah I'm in!

Forever FORWARD HO!

 

I will pop over to the website regularly!

UPPPPp!!1

 

UP!

 

All right!

Since I am not able to get a whole chapter together and post elsewhere, I will post here anyway, despite what I said earlier

*grumble*
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It did not take the occupants of the Morning Glory long to find a Chiss task force, and Luke almost felt relieved when they were hailed by one of the beautiful, camouflaged Stealth Cruisers. Edging his own vessel closer, he was watching Bray La's reaction guardedly, but found only a hint of fear and more than a hint of curiosity in the Falleen's mind. No recognition. "Ready?" the Jedi Master asked softly, and his companion nodded. Calmly, Luke went about answering the call, and identified his vessel and himself, "This is Luke Skywalker aboard the Morning Glory. We intend to pay a visit to Csilla, if that is permitted, and meet with his Esteemed Highness Ja'han'mandana."

There was a lengthy silence, and then a different voice, this one male, answered. "Master Skywalker," the Chiss said, "it is an honour. But why did you not announce your visit earlier?"

"It was a minute decision;" Luke confessed. "And it is important that I see him."

"You will have to contend with me first, I fear," the stranger replied then, sounding almost amused. "I am General Kalo'wyn," he introduced himself at last. "And I will be honoured to receive you aboard the Mahsenda."

Luke felt his mind flush with exhilaration. The Mahsenda! This was Al'than'erudo's old ship, before he had left his people to serve the Council of Naboo. And General Kalo'wyn was also an old acquaintance, a courageous Chiss commander who had once committed the remains of his decimated claw-craft contingent to try and rescue his monarch from Yuuzhan Vong clutches. "General," the Jedi answered, relieved, "It is an honour."

A little later, with the Morning Glory safely secured in one of the Mahsenda's holds, Luke and Bray La finally met their host. The formerly trim Chiss soldier had thickened somewhat around the middle, but it suited him, Luke found. The earnest expression on the general's face was broken by a light smile upon seeing the familiar shape of the Jedi Master disembark, and he walked over briskly to greet Luke and his companion. Introducing the Falleen, Luke observed the general closely, and found cautious curiosity in the Chiss' glowing red eyes. And then, all business-like, Kalo'wyn brought them to the familiar tactics room of his ship and asked bluntly, "And what is it that needs the Emperor's attention?"

"Information," Luke confessed, settling into one of the not so comfortable chairs spread around the large display wall that dominated the middle of the room. "And the whereabouts of one Imperial general named Warrahm Domain Carr. She's supposedly on duty out toward your perimeter."

Kalo'wyn cocked his head to the side curiously, as if trying to discern a different meaning behind the Jedi Master's request. Belatedly Luke remembered first meeting Al'than'erudo on this very ship, and the stunning revelation that he was Force-sensitive. But he could sense no such thing in Kalo'wyn. So what was eating him? Finally the Chiss answered, "The Emperor, as you can guess, is a busy man. I do not see how your request would merit a personal audience." Luke was taken aback. After all he and his family had done to save Ja'han'mandana and his people, he would have expected to be received with more hospitality. Kalo'wyn seemed to notice his consternation, for he hurried to assure him, "This is in no way related to your personal history with the Chiss," he said. "But we need to be cautious. The Emperor himself has ordered security to be increased. I cannot even begin at guessing at his motives."

"I can," Luke breathed in a whisper. He remembered the foiled attacks on Franzis Sarreti's life, and what Bray La had told him about the disappearance of the Sith princess Luzaya Dan. He recalled the last pieces of news they had garnered before leaving Nirauan, of the accusations against Empress Yana Dar concerning the genocide of the Yevetha population of N'zoth. It was cle

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Bliss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nice to see you back here, even if it is temporary.

Franz still has the Empress in his hands unable to do nothing but dread over his wife and worry over his daughter.

And Luke can be cleaver. Really good to see that for a change.

FORWARD!

 

Right. Back for a little time. Here's some more.
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On the peaceful world of Naboo former queen Padmé Naberrie was preparing to have dinner with friends and family, and she was truly looking forward to this quiet get-together, so soothing in the midst of chaos. Anakin had left along with Mon Mothma and Bred Antham to present the Council's findings on Coruscant, but Tomas had been joined by his wife Raisa from Bilbringi, and the couple was always great company. She knew she was blessed with dear friends, and was grateful that they were here with her while her husband was far away. There was too much to worry about, and she longed for a little peace, if only for an evening. Dawdling in her dressing room she took great pains to make herself look presentable, sighing over wrinkles caught in the outer corners of her warm brown eyes, silver strands in her dark hair and the gentle sagging of ageing skin. She was still beautiful, but she had always been a perfectionist too. Anakin loved her, she knew, and he found nothing in a few wrinkles, and he told her that her skin was incredibly soft and warm to the touch, flattering her. He loved her, she thought fondly, as much as she loved him. Which was why she was going to all this trouble, after all. Because she wanted to look her best. Always.

At last she had finished dressing and stepped out into the hallway. Wandering down the darkened length of the corridor toward the gardens, she was smiling to herself. The lodge was quiet and filled with shadows, but she had long learned to accept the comfort they lent. Still, she shuddered when she passed the portrait that guarded the back door, remembering just who had taught her to accept her own darkness. She slipped past hurriedly, and breathed deeply once she stood outside, the warm summer air filling her lungs with the scent of night-blossoming flowers that dotted the garden and the veranda. Stars reflected from the sky glittered on the lake's surface spreading before her, and the quiet sound of voices was carried lightly into the night, guiding her steps to where Anja, Tomas and Raisa were awaiting her. Stepping into the circle of smiling faces, she settled down onto the chair Tomas indicated he had reserved for her by his side, opposite from where Raisa sat, both arms wrapped around her husband's shoulders.

Anja, holding a sleepy Amerie on her lap, was smiling at the couple fondly, and Padmé found herself doing the same. There was wine in a glass carafe on a slender table set in the middle of their circle, and she gracefully helped herself to a glass of the warm, fragrant liquid. Sipping the drink slowly, savouring the earthy taste, Padmé felt that this evening was truly perfect. They talked of trivial matters that night, swapping stories and sharing memories. But then, very suddenly, Padmé heard her grand-daughter stir in Anja's embrace. Looking over, she saw the little girl's golden eyes open like twin moons, wide and piercing. Without a word, Amerie slipped from Anja's lap and started toward the lodge. Anja shrugged once, then rose to follow the girl.

"Let's all go inside," Padmé said then, quietly, her gaze fixed on the retreating figures of her friend and her son's daughter. She remembered Anakin telling her of the nightmares Amerie had confessed to him, of a bone-queen who was after her brother, and a darkness the small child could not grasp. The warm summer night suddenly seemed very chilly. Wrapping the shawl she had brought around her torso, Padmé led the way for Tomas and Raisa toward the house. The glittering lake had turned into a tempting trap of oblivion somehow, and she was anxious to get away from its lure. So very strange ? "Amerie?" she called softly into the dark hallway. There was no sound at all. "Anja?"

"Where are they?" Tomas asked, stepping into the corridor, alert and frowning, ready to protect the females left in his care.

"I do not know," Padmé breathed.

There was a distant shout, then, a child's protesting wailing. Padmé froze, all colour

 

The rest of the chapter is now available on fanfiction.net

 

Could it be.......Kell's kid????? Whoa! And if not, then we have a potentially new power player here. Why seek out the children of Skywalker? Does it have to do with Deron in some way? AGH.......the pressure!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey, can you provide an exact link to the story at ff.n, Djuva? Thanks!