Beyond - Legends Return to Coruscant II (Interregnum Missing Moments #2)

Title: Return to Coruscant II:

Spoiler: Interregnum

Kam

Author(s): Bel505 (Admiral Byzantium)
Timeframe: Between Chapters 33 and 34 of Interregnum
Characters: Luke Skywalker,

Spoiler: Interregnum

Kam Solusar

Summary: Luke Skywalker recruits for the Jedi Order.
Genre: Angst/Drama
Notes: I'm going to be posting two stories here. The first takes place about one year after the execution of Order 66. The second was written as one of three "Missing Moments" vignettes taking place between Chapters 33 and 34 of Interregnum. If you haven't read my admittedly epic-length fanfic, this will present some pretty major spoilers.

Thanks
My sincerest gratitude goes to DrMckay [https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrMckay/pseuds/DrMckay]. His help on these stories is always just what they need.

This one is for Tom Veitch, whose Dark Empire is not my favorite comic series, but who invented a bunch of interesting characters, one of whom gets used here.

 

Survivors
19 BBY


Jedi Master Ranik Solusar sat on a bench overlooking the Canakkae Sea as he prepared to start his morning meditations. Solon was in the Outer Rim, far from Coruscant and near Hutt Space, which had for millennia required a regular Jedi presence. In response to the need, the Jedi had built a small praxeum on the temperate, diverse colony world of Solon. There were only a couple dozen people at the temple itself, isolated from the major population centers on the mainland, and of those only a few were Jedi. Ranik sat outside the main temple complex within great pavilion, with its tinted transparisteel roof to allow light without glare and open space for sparring or meditation.

Behind him, Kam was doing exercises with a training sword. A long, wooden stick made of Solonese airwood, light and tough, Kam swirled through a training kata in the otherwise silent space, the wooden length whistling quietly through the air.

It had been hard to meditate the last few days. In truth, it had been hard to meditate for years. The war dragged on, and Ranik’s… indiscretions… had left him in semi-exile from the Order on Coruscant. Yoda had lectured and smacked his shins with a stick when Ranik admitted having fathered Kam, then the Jedi Council had sent him (and Kam) to distant Solon, far away from the Core.

Ranik had no regrets.

He closed his eyes, sinking into meditation. The sensation of warmth, of morning light, vanished with a hideous abruptness as the Dark rose in the Force around him. An icy chill sank into his bones, making his hands grip tight on his knees. Pain. Pain came on the heels of the chill, anguish and despair, agony and denial, and Ranik’s eyes flew open as he sagged forward, doubling over and gasping as the intensity became too much.

The temple exploded.

The emotional outburst dazed and staggered him; the physical explosion rocked him back to the ground as he tried to stand. His chin hit the permacrete and the shock of agony jolted him back to reality.

The soft whistle of incoming munitions had gone unnoticed compared to the pain in the Force, but the destruction of the temple did not. A wind of heat and debris slammed into him; he could see Kam fall in pain, the training sword splintered. Ranik struggled to his feet, he needed to get to the boy—

A pair of starfighters—starfighters painted in Republic colors!—screamed by, leaving molten permacrete and transparisteel in their wake. Lasers turned the pavilion to shrapnel; it sagged, afire, bits and pieces of debris shooting in every direction. Ranik staggered as one embedded itself in his shoulder, another in his shin, tearing through Jedi robes and he could see Kam, laying limp on his stomach, bleeding from a wound in his back. Ranik raced to him, ignoring his own wounds…

The descent of a shuttle offered only a moment’s hope. Down its boarding ramp surged a dozen troopers, and their familiar helmets no longer looked to Ranik as they had. With the Dark rising, helmets that had seemed symbols of safety and duty, of responsibility and camaraderie, were suddenly revealed as symbols of dread.

The clones’ blaster fire was merciless and precise, cutting through the scattered responses of his fellows. Ranik cradled Kam’s limp form in his arms, found a place sheltered by remaining stone foundation to lay him down, and then ignited his lightsaber.

Minutes later Ranik laid Kam’s still body down once again, this time on the floor of the shuttle. He took a moment to help the boy into a healing trance; watched Kam’s face relax as the pain eased. Then Ranik brought kicked the ship’s engines into gear and started plotting a course.

* * *​

The whirr-chunk of an axe hitting wood resounded outside. The formerly-abandoned hunting cabin that Ranik now called home was well-constructed, in the wattle-and-daub style typical to this part of Neftali, and after a year it finally was starting to feel like home. Outside the axe fell again, and Ranik heard Kam grunt with the exertion. Kam had asked—again—to be allowed to use the lightsaber instead, but Ranik insisted he use the axe. It consumed no power, it left no suspicious burns, and it was more fit for purpose than using a lightsaber, which should be treated with respect. The axe was more strenuous, but it wasted less.

Besides, it was good exercise for Kam. Ranik’s son was still not yet a teenager, but he was strong in the Force, bright-spirited and resilient, which gave Ranik the strength to go on even on the hardest of days.

Reassured, Ranik attempted to meditate. Before the day of catastrophe, meditation was like sinking into light, effusive and penetrating. Ever since, the tendrils of Darkness had grown stronger, dimming that light, a vital poison that seemed to eat away at the Force itself. The Jedi, so long the agents of the living Force, had been diminished, perhaps fatally, and with their loss it seemed the Force itself had lost some of its vigor. Ranik had no idea how many of the Order’s members endured. He knew that Master Kenobi had survived, and deep in his bones he knew Master Yoda yet lived, but beyond that nothing was certain.

Still, he had to try. Meditation was the only thing he could do to fight back, to feel the will of the Force and to know whether what he and Kam now did was the right way forward.

But there was no light to be found that evening, no guidance. The moment he entered the trance dread draped thick around him, a heavy blanket of fear that clung to every falling snowflake, to every bitter cool breath, to every ray of the setting sun. Dread the coming of night, the Force warned. The hibernating creatures in the distance stirred to whisper to him; the hearty tundra plants pushed against the freshly-fallen snow to call out a warning. Dread when he inhaled, filling his lungs, refusing to depart when he exhaled. Dread, as if the world around him darkened a shade every time he closed his eyes, fading towards a consuming, irresistible black.

He opened his eyes slowly, exhaling. Meditation clearly was not going to be happening today.

There was a reassuring thud outside of the axe coming down, the sound of wood splitting for the fire, was a reminder of health and life, of survival and perseverance. He focused on that instead, on the promise of that future, at least.

From outside he heard Kam gather up the wood he’d chopped and start bringing some of it inside. He offered Ranik one of his satisfied smiles, the one he wore after he’d accomplished one of his goals, and Ranik felt his spirits lift. Kam had inherited Ranik’s hair and eyes, but that smile was all Kam’s mother. “We’re going to need to go hunting, Master,” Kam said. “Before winter really sets in.”

Ranik forced himself to relax, to let go of his failed meditation, of the painful memories, and return to the present. The cabin, which at first had seemed a prison, increasingly felt like a home. Even after all the pain and loss he and Kam had found some happiness, here in the wilds of Neftali, in the northern cold and permafrost.

He nodded. “We’ll go out again tomorrow,” he agreed. “Is it going to snow?”

Kam shrugged. “I don’t think so. The clouds don’t look like snow, the sky has been clear most of the day. I saw the d’oemir bears again, but they didn’t get too close to the cabin.”

“Good,” Ranik muttered with a frown. The bears were their closest companions. They weren’t exactly friendly, but as long as he and Kam didn’t infringe on their territory they seemed willing to leave the humans be. “If you see the cubs—”

“—I know, I know,” his son interrupted with a sigh. “Keep my distance, don’t anger their mother.”

“I’m sure she has told her cubs the same about you and me.”

Kam frowned. “Do you hear that, Master?” he asked.

Ranik stilled, closing his eyes and drawing on the Force to enhance his hearing. The dread redoubled, slamming into him with furious weight, but despite the sudden distracting pressure he could, indeed, hear something he shouldn’t.

A shuttle?

He raced to the cabinet near the door, pulled it open and grabbed his lightsaber. He threw the practice saber to Kam, whose sudden fear echoed Ranik’s own. He pointed at his son. “Stay here!” He ordered, and raced outside to scan the sky.

A modified Theta-class attack shuttle, its wings already folding up, descended towards the cabin.

Panic swirled around Ranik, driving the breath from his lungs and freezing his heart.

He didn’t know what he had done wrong to be found, but he had no time for recriminations. He had to protect Kam, had to ensure his escape… but the isolation that had been their protection was also their doom. There was nowhere to go, and no way to get there.

The shuttle settled into the ground, its ramp descending to rest on the snow. Ranik ignited his gleaming cerulean lightsaber with its snap-hiss, and then the blaster fire started.

He slew the troopers with negligent ease, his mind seeking desperately for a solution. The only possibility that came to mind was to repeat their feat on Solon, to take the shuttle and run—

A mechanical breath. A mechanical exhale. A mechanical breath.

Ranik turned towards the shuttle, leaving the corpse of the trooper beside him, and was just in time to meet the crimson lightsaber with his own. The clashing blades cast the snow in intermingled red and blue, and he found himself falling back as the black armored figure marched after him, powerful strokes of his saber staggering Ranik’s defenses. Ranik yelled to Kam, told him to run, told him to flee, and knew even as the words left his throat that none of those things would be happening and dread and fury and despair all mingled together in his heart as Darth Vader smashed his defenses open.

* * *​

His master fell, the crimson blade splitting his torso from shoulder to hip. Kam cried out, tears pouring down his cheeks, falling to his knees in the snow. The violet glow from the rival lightsabers had turned to a steady crimson, lighting the snow with its gleaming, mournful color. His mind was blank with grief and rage and an overpowering terror; his hands slipped over snow, the treads of his boots sliding as he rose, trying to run, but he found himself caught in an invisible vicelike grip, legs flailing, feet leaving trails in the snow.

Kam swung the axe at the black armored figure, found his arm held immobilized. The invisible grip pried his fingers open and it fell from his hand; his body screamed in protest as the invisible grip contorted him to his limits. Kam sobbed with grief and terror, tasting salt on his tongue, and the inside of his eyelids glowed red.

And then, calm. Terror faded to fear, rage to anger, grief to sadness. Kam found a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had and he opened his eyes, staring at the lightsaber just inches from his forehead and up into the hideous black mask beyond.

A mechanical breath. A mechanical exhale. A mechanical breath.

 

[Go to Interregnum] [Go to Missing Moments Index]​

Return to Coruscant II: Kam
10 ABY


Coruscant hadn’t changed since he’d last been here. It had only been a few days, after all, and planets did not typically change so quickly. But Kam Solusar’s return to Coruscant felt like an arrival on a whole new world, different and new. Like he was seeing through different eyes, old lenses removed and new clarity offered. The world hummed with life, the Force swirling around him more strongly than he could remember; the speeders and spaceships filled with minds, busy or tired, excited or mourning. The cacophony somehow resolved itself into a calm, energetic hum.

He didn’t know what to do. He really wasn’t entirely sure what he was even doing here. It had only been a day since he’d been Leonia Tavira’s Tevas-kaar, her servant and protector. Her enforcer. He had never relished the role, but he had known what to do in it. But now… not since he’d been a child, since the Inquisitorius had scooped him up and impressed him into its vision of an ideal servant, had he felt so unfettered. Or so confused.

Beside him, Luke Skywalker and Winter walked through the halls of the Imperial Palace towards the empty single-person quarters that would be his home. For how long that would last he didn’t know. He didn’t feel like he knew anything anymore, really. The only thing he did know, the only thing he was certain of, was that it was right for him to be here. His father’s lightsaber was secure in his hand, his long-faded memories of the man who had wielded it, who had stood toe-to-toe with Darth Vader in a futile attempt to protect his son, were vivid once again, restored by touch and scent and the desire to once again remember. How they had trained, sparred, meditated. The many, many lessons about the will of the Force, the importance of living in the moment, of feeling life surrounding you, of letting it take control and guide you down the proper path.

Ever since that fight, since Vader had slain Ranik Solusar, Kam had not stepped foot on the path. Not once. Even after the Battle of Endor and he’d found himself with the unexpected opportunity to escape Imperial service, Kam had still not felt like he was where he should be. He moved forward, putting one foot in front of the other. He’d fallen in with an order of Force sensitives that months earlier he would have been charged with exterminating, but even his time with the Jensaarai had felt wrong, especially after Tavira had selected him to be her guard. But what else could he do, but put one foot in front of the other and live, as his father had wanted him to?

He was putting one foot in front of the other now, walking through the confined halls of the Imperial Palace. In front of him, the silver-haired Winter was swiping their entry to a small room. It was comfortable, a simple living area for a single humanoid, and he nodded his assent as Winter asked him if it was acceptable. “Yes,” he said, his voice sounding and feeling hoarse.

Winter glanced at Luke, gave him a somewhat pronounced look, then stepped back. “You’ll let me know if you need anything else?” she asked Luke. “I really must return to help the Princess. We’re working on the latest draft of the New Republic Constitution. There are some concerns about distributing political power between the sectors, and still more about whether we will impose rules about how those sectors will operate internally.” She grimaced and leaned towards Luke, her voice taking on a soft, conspiratorial lilt. “It is even more of a nightmare than usual.”

Luke looked and sounded both amused and resigned. “Then you should get back to her, Winter. I know how much she relies on you to give her a good second opinion.”

Winter waved dismissively. “So she claims. But Leia knows her own mind and once she has made her mind up, there’s no changing it.” She looked at Kam. “It was nice to meet you, Kam,” she said with a slight bow of her head, her Alderaanian accent reminding Kam of numerous Imperial officers he’d met during his time in service to the Inquisitorius—before or after they had defected.

“Thank you,” he said, his throat still gratingly hoarse.

Winter smiled, then turned and left.

Luke nodded at him. “My quarters are just upstairs and down the hall,” he explained. “Winter thought it best that we be close to one another, under the circumstances.”

“She worked for New Republic Intelligence?” he asked. Surely she must, anyone who came to settle him into this place likely had ties to NRI. Being who he was, with his history, NRI would want to dissect his brain for secrets and information.

“Not anymore,” Luke said. “She worked for Alliance Intelligence, but has since transitioned into working solely for my sister, especially after Leia became pregnant.” He gestured at the neatly-cleaned, unused furniture and then took a seat on the couch. “Sit with me.”

Kam sat.

“I’m sure General Cracken will want to interview you,” Luke said. “But if you don’t want to do that now, I can stall him while we get you settled.”

Kam regarded the young Jedi. Luke was younger than he was, probably by ten years, but he carried himself with a quiet, assured confidence that Kam remembered from the Jedi at the training center on Solon. All those sentients, preparing to be Jedi, so confident in who they were and what they were. Kam had felt like that once, before the Empire. “What do you want from me?” he finally asked.

“For now? Just to talk with you.”

“Why?”

The young Jedi sighed. “I have been tasked with assuring the future of the Jedi. With passing on my knowledge.” He leaned forward, his keen eyes boring into Kam. The expression made Kam feel as if at the center of a storm, energy and potential whirling around the room, and he recalled the remarkable ease with which Luke had defeated him at Linuri. “But my masters are dead, and with them the memory of the old order. I’ve many records, and heard many testimonials, but what I’ve found that I trust is largely about technique. How to use the Force, how to channel it, what it can be used for. Very little about how the Jedi were organized, their structure, how they interacted with the Republic and other governments in the galaxy.”

“I’m no politician,” Kam objected. “And I was much too young when the Order fell to know any of that.”

“I know,” Luke conceded. “But you can tell me how Jedi treated one another. How teaching happened in normal times.” His voice faded away; Luke took a deep breath. “I have few peers, Kam.”

“I’m not sure I’m worthy of being a peer,” Kam said, surprised by the harshness he heard in his voice. “Not after all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. I allowed myself to fall, to be used by the Dark, and…”

“Once you start down the dark path, forever it will dominate your destiny,” he heard a whispery voice of a great Jedi, his memory vivid. “Consume you it will.” He had more than started down the Dark path. He’d lived it. He’d walked down it for most of his life, for all of his adult life. There had been moments he’d reveled in it, and perhaps—perhaps—he had begun to walk back towards the light, perhaps he’d heard his father’s voice, encouraging him, especially after Endor… but forever it will dominate your destiny. Forever it will dominate your destiny. Forever…

“No,” Luke said quietly, his voice firm enough to cut through the refrain. “No, Yoda was wrong.”

He said it with such fervent intensity, such certainty, that Kam almost believed him.

Luke swallowed and looked away for a moment, but just a moment. When he looked back at Kam, his intensity, his certainty had returned. “This isn’t an easy conversation for me to have, Kam, but you have every right to know.” He offered a somewhat lopsided, slightly nervous smile. “My Aunt Beru used to tell me that confession, apology, and forgiveness were the tools used to break walls down into bridges.” He shifted, leaning forward. “Before he fell to the Dark, Vader’s name was Anakin Skywalker. He sold himself to the Dark and the Emperor a long time ago… because he was afraid.” Luke took a breath. “He was my father.”

Oh.

The memory of that long-ago day, of Vader’s dark form looming on the ramp of the shuttle, snow scattering around them. Of Ranik Solusar, holding the lightsaber that Kam now had in his hand, standing, desperate and terrified, of how that terror had infected Kam. Of how Vader had casually murdered Kam’s father, effortlessly smashing through his defenses. Of how the dark form had loomed over Kam’s fallen form as he sobbed into the snow…

He took a deep, hitching breath, and was surprised that he wasn’t surprised. That was why, he realized. Why when Luke had strode into the hangar in his black cloak, when his Force presence had made itself fully known, putting Kam for the first time at the center of the storm of Luke’s gaze, it had all seemed so familiar. Why when Kam had fallen and Luke stood over his prone form he had known that Luke would not strike, just as Vader had not.

Oh.

Luke said nothing, but the younger Jedi refused to look away. Kam could see his trepidation, see the flicker of shame in that gaze, and see the complete refusal to run away from what his father had done. The burst of violent rage in Kam’s gut was just as easily dispelled, breathed out and lost, replaced with sorrow.

“The Jedi who trained me told me about Anakin Skywalker, their friend, the legendary pilot and cunning warrior. They trained me to kill him without ever telling me who he was. I found out when I rushed off, half-trained, to save my friends.” Luke looked away for the first time, pulling down the glove on his right hand, revealing the durasteel collar just below the synthflesh covering his hand.

Kam winced.

“I wasn’t ready. He gave me this and he told me who we were to each other.” Luke replaced the glove, his intense gaze back on Kam. “Yoda and Ben told me that I had to face him. That I had to kill him—that there was no good left in him.” Luke offered a slightly abashed laugh and smile. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t believe them. I hoped he could be saved, that he could be brought back.” Luke’s expression grew serious once again. “And I was right.”

It took a moment for Kam to comprehend what Luke had said. “What?”

“He turned on Palpatine, at the end,” Luke said, “and put an end to his horror.” Luke did look away now, his expression darkening. “I won’t say he was a good man. I can’t. He did too much evil. I would never ask you to forgive him, any more than I would expect Leia to. He took too much from you both. But—” Luke met Kam’s gaze once again “—he proves that Yoda was wrong. That you can turn back from the Dark.

“That you can turn back from the Dark, Kam. That you already have. That you had even before we fought, even before you fought Mara. And I would like to have your help rebuilding what your father help build… and mine destroyed.”

Kam turned away, surprised to find that he was genuinely tempted. Surprised even more that he didn’t begrudge Vader’s apparent son either his strength or his heritage. “What is it you would want from me? If I were to join you.”

“Aunt Beru taught me that those of us with extra had a duty to share with those who had less. We didn’t have much on Tatooine, but we were free. And we shared that freedom and whatever water we could spare with people who needed it. The Force, our ability to touch it, let it give us the ability to act in ways that others can’t.” Luke gestured to the window that overlooked the Coruscant cityscape, the dimming evening light, the first gleams of visible stars despite all of Coruscant’s light pollution. “When I reach out with the Force, I feel the galaxy spinning all around me, with a million, million pinpricks of light, and I know that the Force wants me out there.” A small, almost intimate smile flickered across his lips, and Kam could feel the sudden softening of Luke’s emotions. “We can’t save the galaxy on our own. It will be our job to make a small difference, when and where we can. To grow our ranks so that there will be more of us who can make small differences, until it all adds up to something greater than any of us.”

“Why me?”

“Because you feel it too,” Luke said with quiet certainty. “Because we can’t just close off this part of ourselves. Because, whatever it might come to cost us, we’re Jedi.”

For the first time in a long time, the voice in the back of Kam’s head, the one that whispered forever will it dominate your destiny, went quiet.

Kam turned back to face Luke. “All right,” he heard himself say, with far less hesitation than he would have guessed. “All right,” he repeated. His lips moved into a small, unaccustomed smile. “How do we start?”

[Go to Missing Moments Index]​

 

I adored this bit of deep candor from Luke about Vader/Anakin, about his sense of the Force and the Jedi's role in it, his confidence in Kam. And I am very happy that Kam was receptive.

 

I have such mixed feelings about Yoda, I gotta say. Growing up on the OT (I'm old enough that I saw RotJ, at least, in theaters), I always thought he was pretty awesome, that "there is no try" nonsense notwithstanding. But after watching the PT and TCW and seeing his shortsightedness in so many things and how he helped hold up such a hidebound institution that incorporated such injustices as taking children (even if the parents agreed, I can't forgive that) and even the small things like his incredibly callous advice about not mourning those who have died and preparing yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose to Anakin... I mean, Yoda's as entitled to be a complex and flawed person as anyone else, but there's a lot about the old Order that I dislike, including the rules against attachments, and this little part of the story makes me narrow my eyes at Yoda.

Order 66, on the other hand, is just a completely straightforward tragedy. Such a beautifully intricate trap Palpatine engineered, to use both the clones and the Jedi for his own purposes, in a way that would all but guarantee a close camaraderie between them, and then force one group to turn against the other like that, ultimately treating them all as unimportant and disposable. He was probably cackling over it for decades.

Excellent all the way around - of course a kid is going to want to do things the easy way, and both Ranik's practical and moral reasonings are spot-on.

And this is a good glimpse of the danger and fear any surviving Jedi lived and, most likely, died with after Order 66

When you don't even know where to begin looking for the proper path, yeah, what else can you do but survive?

Chuck all that and wing it, Luke

Like my thoughts on Yoda, I grew up loving the idea of the Jedi, but the PT's left me with a lot of mixed feelings on that front. Not everything about the old Order was wrong, but dang if I don't disagree with Lucas on an awful lot about how the Jedi should be

I honestly spent a few minutes trying to remember what fanfic this reference was from before I realized it was VotF

I love this. I don't begrudge Luke his own mixed feelings about Vader/Anakin, but I've never liked post-RotJ stories where Luke seems to think that that one act of defiance on Vader's part makes up for two decades worth of mass murder and atrocities.

This is just perfect. Perfect summation of both Luke's vision of what a rebuilt Order should do, and of Luke's own unshakable integrity

 

At the end of Stover's novelization of Revenge of the Sith, Yoda laments that he had been too hidebound and set in his ways. He specifically says something like "I raised a new generation of Jedi to be like the Jedi of old, and maybe that's not what the galaxy needed." There are costs in a galaxy populated by short-lived (relatively) aliens, to being one who lives for centuries. A line of Stover's, that the Jedi of old were afraid of the Dark, stays with me because I think it's very true.

Ultimately, I think Yoda chose carefully what he taught Luke and what he didn't teach Luke, and what he chose not to teach was as important. Unfortunately, I think a lot of the later EU missed that and the Jedi ended up being the prequel Jedi Order reborn, which is a shame.

By necessity Luke's Jedi would be very different at first, but I also think he would decline to make some of the same choices that the Jedi of old would make. But these are questions for a future story...

DrMckay wrote a bunch of that! He did the million pinpricks of light, and I did the "theory of small differences". I think. It can be hard to remember sometimes.

 

At the moment, I'm reading from my phone, so I can't quote text, but i LOVE that Luke talked about Beru here with Kam. Yes, Luke... TALK about your aunt that was effectively the only mother you ever knew.

Well done.