Summary:
    Four years after the events in part three, Vaiya, Khameir Sarin (formerly  known as Seth) and the rest of the crew return to Coruscant to finish up some  old business. Unfortunately, that "old business" wants to finish them! Worst of all, Sidious finds his current host no longer suitable and wishes to find another. And we know how the Skywalkers have a bad history with the dark
side.....
 
 

     There was a secret here he wished to learn.
     Endor was a peaceful place...if you could ignore the Ewoks. They were innocent
enough creatures, but annoying. Sure, they had been elemental in the battle of the Second
Death Star, but that didn't mean that they were given free reign to cling to the legs of
visitors. Many generations of Ewoks had come and gone since those days, and the
descendants were left with tales of their ancestors. If any New Republic representative
came, they were greeted by the fuzzy paws turning into iron latches around their knees.
     Luckily, Valery Ben Skywalker had been traveling incognito. Few people knew of him,
anyway, without the Skywalker. For the time being he went by his two first names, but in
real life he simply went by one--Ben.
     He didn't know entirely why he was here. Or rather, he didn't know what he expected to
find. There were no answers here that he needed. Something simply pulled him here. He
slowed the land skiff down that he had rented when the cave site appeared. They had had it
torn down many years ago, but there was a grave there, marking it, set in the stone.
     His mother's grave.
     He had seen her as a child, as clearly as if she had been flesh and blood. It was a Force
apparition, he knew, but real to him. She had been his mentor, his guide. She had been the
one to tell him that he had to seek out his true father, and Mara Skywalker, and Larin,
whom he knew as his brother, the son of the family who had found him as a baby, encased
in the stasis field, and taken him in.
     It was not the first time he'd come here. He had picked out a day through the galactic
year and came here on that day to honor her memory. Luke and Mara came with him, but
they did not intrude on his time. This was personal time for him and his mother. As much
as Mara loved him, as much as she had cared for him as for her own son for the last nine,
almost ten years, it was Callista's grey eyes that he had inherited, and Callista's lightsaber
that graced his belt. He was her blood, the only lasting mark she had made upon the
galaxy.
     But today was not that day.
     Ben paced the open space, his eyes traveling briefly over the piled stones that made up
the grave, carefully placed together in an intricate pattern that would allow for stones to
fall away here and there so that the whole thing wouldn't collapse. He wandered past it,
letting the Force be his guide. Then, about twenty feet away from the center, he pulled out
his lightsaber and cut deep into the earth. He pulled out and made another cut, then
another, and another until the ground fell underneath and left a gaping square of empty
space in its wake.
     Ben knelt down and peered inside. There was a room underneath. They had not been so
careless, the men of Jabba's Fist, the slavers who had taken his mother captive and sold her
son into slavery by encasing him in a field that would pause his very life until someone
decided they wanted a strong male child, as a son or as a worker, it mattered little to the
slavers. Ben shut out the anger and sat down at the lip of the opening, preparing to go into
the darkness beneath.
     He waited for a moment for the Force to tell him otherwise. To give him a sudden flash
of danger as Mara would get times. Nothing of that nature came, but something else did.
An urgency. A call. A band of minds, he couldn't count them, he could only sense them,
reached out to him for help.
     Pushing away from the lip of the opening, he let himself fall, using the Force to catch
himself as he landed on a heavy strip of concrete. He stood and ignited his blade again, the
yellow light illuminating everything like a giant ray of sunlight.
     It came to him that no one had set foot in these rooms since the time of his birth, which
had actually been a good ten years before Vaiya's if not more. Although she was his older
sister, his life had been paused by being encased in that stasis field, so he was now her
younger sibling only because he had been released from it when Vaiya was around eight
years old.
     Not even his own parents had excavated this area after their unfortunate incident here.
No one would ever had known that this room was here, ever, if something hadn't drawn
him to it.
     But why *him?*
     He started down the strip of concrete. It wasn't very long, but it did widen a bit. It dead-
ended at what looked like a door made of some very old, good-quality metal, with a small
porthole of glass that couldn't have been transparisteel because it had been eaten by
insects. Maybe some flimsy, silicon glass that had come from Tattooine. They were, after
all, called Jabba's fist.
     Using the Force, Ben made the door open. When he stepped inside, he saw them. They
were overwhelming, reaching up and nearly smothering his Force-sense as if he had just
cracked open a can of ysalamari, fresh off Mykyr. He even staggered a bit, but something
greater than the Force pressed him forward.
     They glowed blue. There were blocks and blocks of them, all stacked like bricks that
had never been used. He pushed his mind forward, through the thick wall of haze. They
were still alive, all of them. Perfectly preserved in the stasis blocks. All it required of him
was to deactivate them.
     He counted. Thirty minds. All of them of one race, one species. A species his father had
told him tales about when he had first come to live with them, people with white skin and
hair varied shades of black and purple and blue. A warrior race who had come to this
galaxy to escape a terror greater than themselves.
     Nagai.

     Laurel ran through the vine-laden fences, ignoring the bright, glowing blue berries that
were nearly filled to the bursting with their own sweet juices. She ignored the pretty,
iridescent sparkling winged insects that liked to land on the berries and suck the juices
into the long tubes they called mouths. Her hair, a strange mixture of colors that varied
from the deepest red, the richest brown and the palest yellow, like her father's had, flowed
out behind her, the ribbon that had held the tresses into a tail dangling from her shoulder
where it had come undone.
     "MOMMY!" she screamed, her bare feet slapping against the marble ground of the
walk behind her house.
     Suddenly there was someone in front of her. She recognized her before she saw her, the
bright, bright red hair catching in the noonday sun as she bent down to take Laurel into her
arms. Laurel threw her arms around her grandmother's waist and latched on, her cheek
pressing hard against Mara's chest, her breathing fast and panicked.
     "Where's Mommy?" she cried, near tears.
     Mara enfolded her granddaughter into her embrace and sent her soothing thoughts.
"She's inside. Shhh...I'm here. Tell me what's wrong, Lar?"
     Her twin brother, his hair as bright as his grandmother's, came bounding up behind her.
     "She won't tell you," he declared. "She won't tell anyone but mother."
     "Valeris, do you know what scared her?" Mara asked her grandson.
     Valeris Jade Skywalker shook his head.
     "I want Mommy," Laurel said, her voice taking on that edge of defiance that Mara
recognized, even in spite of the fact that the child was clinging to her for dear life. "Get
Mommy! I want Mommy!"
     Mara's eyes widened as she felt a fresh wave of fear. The girl was simply too young to
have this kind of fear in her. Barely three years old, and yet she could shake like an adult
gripped in the dark side.
     "Vaiya!" Mara called, and reached out with her mind. She touched nothing but
blankness.
     "Mommy's meditating," the boy calmly declared. "She can't hear you."
     Mara looked at her grandson. Only four minutes older than his sister, yet he acted like
they were years. As he stared at her, his green eyes still so radiantly calm, Mara wasn't sure
who he reminded her more of--his long dead father, or his long-dead great great
grandfather.
     "Val," Mara asked calmly, "could you go get your mother?"
     He nodded. "Okay." And he bounded off toward the house.

     Vaiya's eyes flew open as the heavy pounding rattled her door. She jumped from her
place on the smooth marble ledge that lined the balcony of her room and headed for the
door. Her Force-sense, which had been locked in a heavy meditation, opened up again like
air passages that had been long-clogged, and she gasped as everything hit her.
     "Laurel," she said, opening the door. But it wasn't Laurel, it was Valeris, looking up at
her with those green eyes, chastising her as surely as his great, great grandfather would
have.
     "Laurel needs you. She's with grandma."
     Vaiya did not bother to put on her cloak. She was dressed in the off-white linen wrap
tunic and drawers that were once quite common among the Jedi, the outfit her father's first
teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had worn. She was only missing the dark boots, which she did
not bother with, either, as she took her son's hand and headed down the hallway at a near
run. Just as she rounded a corner, she came face to face with Khameir.
     "Don't start!" Vaiya said before he could open his mouth. Khameir pulled back, and
glanced down at Valeris. He looked back at the Jedi, his mouth cocked in a half-grin that
made him look like his father.
     "We're going to see Laurel," Val offered.
     Khameir nodded. "Good. Hurry."
     Vaiya let go of her son's hand and took off at a dead run down the stairs and out into the
garden. She caught a flash of red out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Mara
holding on to her daughter.
     A flash of jealousy coursed through her. "Laurel!" Vaiya shouted, and was rewarded by
seeing her daughter raise her head of thick, multi-shaded curls and look in her direction.
Vaiya charged toward them, and only when she was almost at arm's length did Laurel
detach from her grandmother's safe embrace and rush to her mother.
     Vaiya dropped to one knee and scooped the little girl up.
     "You saw him again, didn't you?" she whispered into Laurel's ear.
     The child shuddered. "The man with the horns and the red and black face."
     Vaiya scowled, and glanced back toward the house in time to see Khameir emerge,
Valeris walking beside him.
     "This has to stop," Khameir said gently, glancing at Mara, who nodded, silent.
     "I know," Vaiya said, her throat threatening to close. She shut her eyes and tightened
her grip on Laurel. "I know."

     It had not been a bad life, Vaiya reflected as she lay awake in Laurel's bed. The last of
the sunlight was disappearing, the golden pool dissolving from the rich slate-grey marble
floor of the bedroom. It was her favorite time of day, and also Laurel's bedtime, but the girl
had soundly refused to be left alone, and Vaiya was more than willing to give into her
daughter's wishes, considering the circumstances.
     No, it had not been so bad...until a month ago. It made the four years seem like a
dream, from which they had finally awoke. Having Khameir here, getting to know him as a
real person and not as the apparition she had known for so long, the ghost of a sith lord
and the phantom of an old, dark fantasy that could never be realized. It was a good thing,
she had decided only a month into their new life on Durran, that even his name had
changed. He was truly no longer Seth.
     But all that soon became immaterial. All of it. Even Khameir and his
still-overwhelming presence had not been enough to shake the shadow out of her life. Her
parents remaining and helping her raise her twin children, giving them not one set of
parents but two, was not enough to dispel the emptiness. Every morning, as Vaiya awoke,
her hand still reached out to the empty half of the bed, and every day she remembered that
Larin, her husband, the father of her children, was dead.
     Vaiya ran her hand over her daughter's sleeping form. At last, Laurel was in a deep,
stable sleep. But still, she didn't move. As if Vaiya's presence would keep more bad visions
from haunting her. It did not feel so unrealistic. Recently, she had begun to feel quite
powerful. She didn't know why...perhaps it was the heavy meditations she had engaged
herself in, the ones so deep that they blocked out everyone and everything and completely
immersed her in the Force.
     Khameir warned her against it, again and again. She was lucky he hadn't gotten angry at
her earlier. He had once told her, a long time ago on a night she tried to forget, how he had
passed the long years of his serve to the Cult of the Destroyer. Mindless meditations,
purely focused in the Force. In the dark side of the Force.
     She didn't disbelieve him. But at the same time, it was so peaceful, losing herself in that
power. It was so nice to leave behind her pain, become enveloped in something that made
her feel less helpless, more in control, and brought her the pleasure of purpose again.
     If only she could discover *what* that purpose was.
     But in spite of the emptiness, she could not say that her life here had been bad. She
loved her children--loved them more than her own life, loved them with not just her own
love but the love of the father they would never know.
     Laurel stirred and Vaiya touched her brow, briefly pressing her mind to the child's. No,
no more visions...simply the natural disturbances of a heavy sleep. Dreams of playing in
wide fields, picking fruit, fighting with her brother....
     The door to the room opened, and Valeris poked one curious green eye out from behind
the edge of the heavy wooden frame. Vaiya raised her hand toward him, gesturing for
him to come to her, and he obeyed, scampering across the floor like any other three-year
old. The strange maturity that came to him after one of his twin's disturbing visions was
hardly there anymore, although he was by nature the more quiet of the two. Vaiya sat up
and Valeris put his arms around her waist, resting his head in the hallow of her shoulder.
     "You can't sleep?" Vaiya whispered.
     Valeris didn't answer. Vaiya tightened her arm around his back and kissed him on the
crown of his head. How ironic, she thought, that even though it was his sister who had
inherited all of Larin's coloring and even his expressions, it was Valeris who was most like
him, even as his looks practically screamed out the presence of his Jade blood. If he did
not know what to say, he was wise enough not to speak at all.
     After several moments, Valeris raised his head and met his mother's blue-green eyes
steadily. "Mommy," he said, his voice a few notches above a whisper, "why isn't Kham our
Daddy?"
     Stunned, Vaiya could only stare back at him for a moment. Finally, she swallowed over
the dry lump in her throat and said, "What?"
     "Well," and he pulled away a bit and unlatched his arms from around Vaiya's ribcage,
and began playing with his fingers as if regretting his question but was unwilling to take it
back, "yesterday Lar and I were playing with the other Jedi kids. There's one kid, Cissie,
she says that her daddy died before she was born, too, but her mommy got married again
so now she has another daddy."
     Vaiya nodded. "Um humm..."
     Valeris finally looked up again. "I just wanna know if Kham is gonna be our daddy."
     She wanted to sigh. She had been expecting this, even dreading it for quite some time.
It had been hard enough explaining to the children when they were able to understand it
that their father was no longer alive, and that Khameir was not their daddy. Laurel had
called him daddy once after a long day at play with some of the other children. Even
though the twins were barely two, they were sharp enough to pick out that the men the
other children ran to were addressed with the familiar "Daddy." Naturally, with Kham
being as close to the family as he was, they had mistaken him for having that title.
     The memory of Khameir's face when Laurel made that mistake had almost been enough
to keep Vaiya from explaining the truth. At least, the entire truth.
     Almost.
     "Let's go over to the other side of the room so we don't wake your sister," Vaiya
suggested, standing up and taking Val's hand to guide him all the way over to the small
refresher that connected Vaiya's room to her daughter's. She turned and sat on the marble
rim of the tub, and Valeris was still looking at her, expectantly.
     "I don't know," Vaiya heard herself saying. "I don't know, Val."
     "Why not?"
     "Because--" And she stopped herself. Whatever went into Val's ears right now was
going to come out of his mouth later in Khameir's presence. She had to choose her words
carefully. "Khameir and I are very old friends. But that doesn't have anything to do with
people getting married."
     Valeris looked harder at her, as if he could see right through her. Vaiya brushed aside
the feeling anxiety that this brought up in her. There was no way that the child could
comprehend her emotions, not only because they were to broad and complex, but simply
because he had no frame of reference to understand them from. After all, Jedi Prodigy or
not, he was still a child.
     "Then why are you and Kham all buzzy when you're around each other?" he asked.
     Vaiya's tongue felt cold. "What? Buzzy?"
     "You know...like Grandma and Grandpa." He gave her a bashful grin. "Sometimes
when Grandma and Grandpa hold each other they don't know I'm watching, and I can feel
them get all buzzy. It's in my head, all floaty and buzzy, like a buzzbird." He threw out his
arms in an imitation of the small birds that usually occupied the garden, their colorful
winds fluttering so fast that they were hardly visible to the naked eye when they hovered at
the bell-shaped fruit-flowers that lined the vines.
     Vaiya pressed a finger to her lips for Val to quiet down, but she was smiling. The
buzzing noise that came from his lips was an almost perfect imitation of the sound.
     "You watch Grandma and Grandpa?" Vaiya asked, trying to sound admonishing but
failing miserably.
     Valeris nodded his head, almost proudly. "And they never know I'm there!" he declared.
     Vaiya cocked an eyebrow in amazement. It wasn't anyone who could cloak themselves
from the great Jedi Masters Skywalker.
     "I can feel it in my head like that," Val went on. "And sometimes when you and Kham
are together, I can feel it then, too."
     In spite of herself, Vaiya smiled again. So she and Khameir buzzed. It was nice that
there was something else going on inside of her head other than the constant, buried
feeling of anger. Sometimes, if she could just put it far enough from her mind, she could
forget about it. But it was always there, preying on moments like this, waiting to pounce,
wanting to rear its ugly head and destroy everything beautiful and peaceful in her life.
     "I don't know," she said.
     Valeris sighed. It almost sounded frustrated, like her father used to sigh whenever
Vaiya frustrated him with her runaround answers. To be a child again, she though
bemusedly. Such a big, grown-up sigh from such a small little person. She ran her hand
through his bright hair and kissed his forehead.
     "I'm sorry, sweetie," she cooed. "You ask such big, grown-up questions. I can't give you
any answers right now. Maybe when you're older."
     "You're a big grown-up, why can't you answer?" he asked. "And when am I gonna get
older? When am I gonna be old enough?"
     Vaiya took his hand and let him back through the bedroom. He dragged his feet a bit,
but when they reached his bedroom and she put him back into bed, he hugged her warmly
and told her he loved her.
     No, life had not been so bad.

     Mara arched her back in a heavy stretch, feeling her muscles, old as they were, give in
like melted butter. She was in excellent shape for her age, nearly 70 years old and she
barely looked as old as she had the day she was married.
     "We're leaving in a few days," she told her husband as he entered the room. She
straightened and then bent over again, this time forward, touching her toes and then
grasping her ankles to give her hamstrings a good workout. "If I can hold Vaiya down that
long. But Khameir is even worse. He's already got supplies loaded onto the Emerald
Rogue." She paused, realizing that something was wrong. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Luke? Are you listening to me?"
     Luke was sitting at the small console in their bedroom in Vaiya's home. It wasn't very
big--Luke had built it himself a few months after the twins were born, unwilling to allow
himself to be cut off from the rest of the civilized galaxy. Mara had teased him terribly,
saying he was becoming dependant on a computer, but she was secretly glad. Durran could
seem so backwards sometimes. And all the parts Luke had chosen were of the best quality.
     He was scrolling through some old datapads, and the information was streaking past
him at a rate that was almost too fast for him to be reading.
     "Hellooooo? Bright core to Luke, come in Luke," she said, padding over to him. She
laid her hand on his shoulder and was surprised to feel him jump at her touch. "What is
it?" she asked, suddenly seriously concerned.
     He glanced at her over his shoulder, almost as if he were ashamed to face her. Then,
slowly, he turned in his chair. She ran her fingers through his hair, meaning it to be a
reassuring gesture, but he didn't react. Instead, his eyes met hers with the utmost urgency.
     "Mara," he said, hesitating. "Something strange just happened."
     "What?" She felt the urge to curl up on his lap, but for some reason she didn't dare.
Instead, she knelt in front of him, putting her hands in his.
     "Ben called. He said he was on Endor a few days ago and he found something."
     "Endor...." Attempting to lighten the mood, she said, "If it's a predator that eats Ewoks,
do you think we could have it declared an endangered species so they don't try and shoot
it?"
     He squeezed her hands. "He was where Jabba's Fist's old headquarters used to be. He
said he went exploring and he found something."
     Mara sighed. "Skywalker, either just spit it out or I swear I'll grab your tongue and spit
it out for you. What did he find?"
     "He found a bunch of Nagai."
     Mara just looked at him. "What does that mean?"
     "Well you said just to spit it out." There was a slight twinkle in his eye. Mara resisted
the urge to attack his ticklish ribcage.
     "Skywalker---"
     "Okay, look, there's a long story behind this, you want it or not? Have you ever heard of
the Nagai?"
     Mara sat back on her heels, searching her memory. "Vaguely, once. Maybe from one of
Thrawn's mapping expeditions, I don't know where they found him. White skin, black
hair...odd way of dressing, all those chains and that weird shiny material they wear. But
that was only one. I spent a long time out of commission, Luke," she reminded him, "but I
thought I remembered hearing something on the holonet about the galaxy being at one of
its little wars with those guys. Didn't they try to invade us or something?"
     Luke nodded. "It was before Leia and Han got married. All kinds of things happened
then, stuff that never got into historical records. I had people wanting me to train them to
be Jedi Knights, but I wasn't sure about anything back then. The New Republic was going
by the term The Alliance of Free Planets for a little while, and we were bringing in some
new allies. Particularly from Iskalon and Zeltron."
     The look on Mara's face was priceless--"Water breathers and Zeltrons? Zeltrons? Great
Force, Luke...you're lucky you managed to hang on to your virginity."
     He playfully covered her mouth with his hand. "Would you please--"
     Mara bit the inside of his fingers. "Go on, Farmboy, I'm listening."
     "Good. Because there was a water breather named Kiro who wanted to be trained to be
a Jedi Knight, but I wasn't sure back then that I was capable of training anyone, so I had to
refuse him. We had some problems, but he stayed on as one of our allies. And then there
was a Zeltron that Han had known from back in the day--"
     "A criminal," Mara supplied.
     "Named Dani, yes." He blushed slightly. "Dani kind of had a soft spot for me."
     "You and everyone else with a lightsaber, if you know what I mean."
     "What a dirty seventy year-old mind you have."
     "Comes from having to compensate for all your naivete," she retorted. "Go on, Kiro
and Dani."
     "Well, they were on a mission with me, and they wanted some down time, so I let them
go off alone. They wound up getting attacked by Lady Lumaya. Ever hear---"
     "Yes," Mara said shortly, her face turning into a mask of steel. "Vader's prodigy. Had a
bit of a hate-on for you, from what I remember."
     "Yes, seems I have that effect on beautiful women."
     "OH?" Mara arched an eyebrow. "You thought she was beautiful?"
     "As surely as I think you're jealous," he teased, reaching out and caressing her cheek.
     "Well, then maybe you should have spent your time working on getting her to change
you wicked ways instead of me."
     "Hmm...." He grabbed her by the waist as she stood up to get some distance between
them and pulled her into his lap. "Mara, you are so beautiful when you're jealous."
     "Stow it, Skywalker," she retorted, but Luke was kissing her bare shoulderblades and
her resolve was slipping. "To think I wasted the last forty years of my life on you--"
     He chuckled. "Feisty today, aren't we? But don't worry about the competition anymore,
Mara. Lumaiya died a long time ago."
     "Who said I was worried?" Mara said coldly. "She's the lucky one."
     He sunk his teeth into her bare flesh and she let out a shriek. "Luke!"
     He held fast. "You deserved it. Look at you, getting all jealous over a woman who's
been dead longer than our daughter has been alive!"
     Mara sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today. Laurel was all upset
this morning over another vision and Vaiya and Khameir are determined to do something
about it but other than the fact that they're going to Coruscant I have no idea what their
plan is."
     "I would never have believed that you were a control freak," Luke teased gently.
     "Yeah." She sighed again. "Go on, Luke, I promise not to interrupt again."
     "Okay. Anyway, Dani and Kiro fell in love and during our mission they were attacked
and taken hostage. Lumaiya had banded with the Nagai, who were attempting to colonize
our galaxy after they had to leave theirs because of their war with the Toffs."
     "Toffs?" Mara echoed.
     "The Nagai's enemies. Big, green, ugly. I'll show you a picture someday, they're a huge
race. So anyway, there was a Nagai there named Den Siva. He was a lieutenant and he
took Dani because the Nagai had never encountered a Zeltron before. What he did to
her...wasn't nice."
     "I can imagine."
     "They felt they had to know who their enemy was, considering the nature of Zeltrons."
     "I can't say that I blame them, I wouldn't want the Zeltrons as my enemies either. Any
race that either loves or fights is somebody you don't want to mess with. Even the Emperor
didn't bother too much with them. Too much light in their race, he always said. But
still...poor Dani."
     "It wouldn't have been as bad for her, I think, if when Kiro escaped, rescued me and
then went back for Dani that Den hadn't caught up with them and killed Kiro." Luke
paused.
     "Actually, he didn't kill Kiro, but at that time we thought that he had. It changed
her. I mean, can you image a Zeltron learning to hate and fear like a Nagai? It was quite a
shock to all of us. She was untouchable for a long time."
     Mara stayed silent, contemplating.
     "So," Luke continued, "we continued to fight the war with the Nagai. But pretty soon
we found out why the Nagai were there, and considered attempting to make peace with
them. The Toffs followed them to this galaxy and made the war worse for both sides. Han,
Leia, Lando and I were on Zeltron to attempt to convince the leaders to join us in the war,
and even Dani was there, but the Nagai ambushed us and took prisoners. Leia and Dani
were alone when Den caught up with them. But the Toffs then caught up with Den, and
took him and his prisoners."
     "I'll bet that made Dani happy," Mara said quietly.
     "Actually, they were going to kill Dani in order to get Den to do what they wanted.
They wanted him to set up a trap for his fellow Nagai. He did it to save Dani's life."
     "Luke, you're sounding like Den was in love with Dani."
     "He was."
     "What did she think about that?"
     "I never asked her, to tell you the truth. But Den wound up helping the alliance out that
night a great deal, after he managed to distract the Toffs, and during the scuffle he even
killed one of his own people, again to save Dani's life. He joined up with us and through
him we wound up making peace with the Nagai in order to defeat the Toffs, which we
did...that was when Lumaiya was killed."
     "Ah. So what happened between Den and Dani."
     "You know, it was the oddest thing. Dani didn't feel like she could stay on Zeltros with
her people, and Den was an exile among his."
     "Don't tell me they stayed together."
     "During the rest of the struggle with the Toffs, they became allies. I don't really know
what happened afterwards. Leia told me that they stayed together for a bit, maybe Dani
was trying to work through her hatred for him and Den was trying to make amends for his
life. Then I heard that there was a crew of about thirty Nagai that were set up to colonize
one of the dead worlds. They colony disappeared before it reached its destination. I heard a
rumor that Den was with them, I don't know why. I guessed that he and Dani had finally
separated, unable to make amends. After all, a person can only take so much, I don't care
what race you're from. So I was doing a little bit of an investigation with some trainees,
but that was when I ran into the Eye of Palpatine and met Callista...and you know the rest."
     "So you never looked after them again? To find out what happened?" Mara looked
down at him, perplexed. "That isn't like you, Mr. Save the Galaxy."
     "I know. I hadn't ever thought about it again, to tell you the truth...until today."
     "Why today?"
     "Because they found them today."
     "The Nagai? They found them?" Mara stood up and turned around so she could look her
husband square in the face. "Where?"
     He seemed to turn to stone for a moment, and Mara found herself wondering if he had
ever played sabbacc in his life with that face--he would have been a millionaire. "Ben
found them when he was visiting the site where Callista died. They had been taken by
Jabba's Fist and put into Stasis Blocks. They were in a big underground room."
     "We never saw them."
     "I know. But with the way those Stasis Blocks affect the Force I'm not really surprised.
Ben would never have found it if he hadn't gone looking for it."
     "But why did he?"
     "I don't know. Why do any of us do the things we do? You know enough about the
Force, Mara. Sometimes things just happen."
     "Yejion forbid that you should ever become an Elder," Mara said. "That's the biggest
load of ka ka you've spewed out in a long time. A more correct answer, Jedi Master, is that
he was called there. For a reason. And I'm pretty sure that reason was to set them free."
     "Yeah," Luke said, giving her a half-smile. "There's that reason, too." Then he sobered.
"You know, most of the Nagai who had come here all returned to their own galaxy some
time ago. These guys, whoever they are, are going to find this galaxy is a very lonely
place."
     Mara nodded. "Well, then, I guess we'll have to make sure they're as comfortable as
possible."
     "That's my little Jedi Master," Luke teased.

     His name was Den Siva. More specifically, Lieutenant Den Siva of the Nagai. His days
of Lieutenant were long behind him, but it was still natural to lead. That instinct never
died in him, no matter how outcast he became, how weakened he was by his un-Nagai
instincts to love and to care like a Zeltron.
     *Zeltron.* Dani. The last image of her face floating before him, giving him that same
look of begrudging friendship, mingled with the old chords of hate that she held against him
for killing Kiro. She would never forgive him for that, no matter how much he apologized,
no matter how much penance he did for his sins. Her Zeltron passions had been changed,
but their intensity had not. As much as she had once loved and fought, she now hated and
feared. She feared him. Every time his touch came too close to her, she cringed and then
stormed away, angry at herself for showing her fear. Zeltrons were fearless by nature. Why
should she be bogged down by fear?
     There were days that Den wondered if he were suppressing some Jedi instinct, the same
as the kind that the famed Jedi Skywalker possessed. He had never spoken much to
Skywalker, but he respected him. He seemed to have the same kind of underbred
fierceness as many Nagai he had known, but there was a weakness he possessed that kept
him apart from the Nagai. At least, the Nagai would have considered it a weakness.
     Compassion.
     He could feel Dani's emotions as his own. She struggled to come to terms with her new
identity, but as long as he was near, constantly reminding her of the past by his mere
presence, she could not. The scars wouldn't heal. He had to leave.
     And so he did. He didn't even tell her he was going. Perhaps it was a wounded reaction,
a desire to hurt her in some small way, even if that seemed impossible. He had hurt her so
much, but this kind of hurt was different. He wanted her to miss him, to be sad--sad!--that
he had chosen to part ways from her, that he didn't even say goodbye.
     The kind of bittersweet satisfaction he had imagined every night for several months had
been enough to carry him from one day to the next. And then getting chased down by those
slavers and prodded like meat. Their muttering about "whities" being so delicate and yet so
fierce and strong and proud. Indeed, the Nagai appearance was deceitful--slender and
graceful, slim and tall, almost willowy. Yet deadly and fast, devastatingly clever and
dispassionately cruel.
     They tried to fight. They tried. But the slavers were too numerous and had much more
advanced technology than their small, pathetic colonizing crew. These Nagai he had
chosen to dwell with were not like his kinsmen of old. They were civilians, and young
civilians at that, those who did not face the gaping jaws of war every day. They were not
so unlike him, although a good deal more naive and certainly more ambitious. They were
not battle-seasoned. They had barely stood a chance.
     Den could have run. He could have abandoned his crew and jumped ship, escaping with
his life and freedom intact. He had had a chance, but he hadn't taken it. Something in  him
wouldn't let him. And when they slammed him into that freezing cold block of blue death,
he felt as if this was what was meant for him, this was the only punishment that was good
enough for him, the only way to redeem himself.
     How, he had no idea. Even less, now that he had been found. And by Skywalker's own
son, no less. The boy had to be at least twenty. If not older. And he looked so much like his
father, in poise and presence. He had that serenity that Skywalker had always emanated,
something that had always attracted Dani and those like her, the wild women who loved to
love fiercely and fight like the hellcats they were.
     "You've recovered pretty quickly," the young man said--Valery Ben Skywalker, he had
introduced himself. Named for that Obi-Wan Kenobi that Skywalker had raved so much
about, always quoting him at some point or another. He sounded almost as annoying as
that little green Yoda, but Den had kept silent, knowing he was no Jedi, he could not
judge.
     Somehow, he had learned not to judge.
     "I do not know what to tell you," Den replied, his voice feeling strange in his throat and
against his ears. "Perhaps I am more resilient than my crew."
     "I'll agree, not one of them could be older than me, at least not by much." He smiled,
and Den could tell that the young man meant nothing but friendship. Strange, his old,
distrusting Nagai instinct had not surfaced in many years. Perhaps this was a good sign.
     "No, they were not." Den attempted to stretch his muscles. It had been a good several
days since his eyes had opened to the waking world, freed from his icy prison. But they
had been so careful with him, checking his muscles for decay, wanting to monitor his
health, that he had not been able to so much as stand for more than a few minutes. He put
his weight on the balls of his feet and pressed down, letting the muscles groan as they
remembered their function. He groaned in pain, but it was a good pain. It meant he was
healing.
     "What is the last thing you remember?" Ben asked.
     "Blue," Den returned smartly, grabbing for the black clothing they had brought to him.
It was a sleek suit, reminiscent of the clothing he had used to wear. Apparently, these
people were not unaccustomed to Nagai dress, that they would be so considerate. Perhaps
the Nagai had truly become a part of this universe.
     He turned his head and realized that it was a mistake. His balance had not yet adjusted
to its sudden freedom and all he saw was pink before he slumped to the floor. Ben caught
him and set him on the short bunk, sitting up.
     "You okay?" Ben asked, and it was a senseless question, but one these humanoids
insisted on asking. How many times had they asked him that? He would vomit his own
entrails if he heard it again.
     "Fine," Den growled. "It's been a long time."
     "I know."
     But Den's mind began to wander. Pink. All he had seen was pink. Dani's hair, Dani's
face. He shut his eyes, but it was useless.
     "Den?" came Ben's voice through the haze. "Perhaps you need some more sleep."
     Den gave a short, bitter laugh. "I think I've slept enough for my lifetime, Jedi," he said,
attempting to make his tone respectful. "Right now, I just want to see my...my crew."
     "Your friends are not in as good of a shape," Ben said. "They're going through some
rehabilitation, but medical personnel are confident that they'll recover with a week."
     "Well, that is reassuring," Den said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "So what shall I do
in the meantime?"
     "Make yourself comfortable in my home. You're welcome to be my guest." He paused.
"I know that I can definitely offer you something you might find extremely valuable."
     "A history lesson?" Den said hopefully.
     "Yes."
     Den looked at him. "Then by no means shall we tarry."

     "Are you sure you don't want us to come with you?" Mara asked as she watched Vaiya
load up her children, herding them up the ramp like a mother Qoa-jha and her nestlings.
     "No, Mother, at least not yet. Maybe we'll send for you in a bit, but not right now." She
looked back over her shoulder toward the house, which wasn't very far considering they
had their own private landing bay.
     "G'bye, Gramma!" Laurel cried, bursting line to run over and hug Mara, throwing her
arms about the woman's neck. "We'll miss you!"
     "You won't miss me for long, sweetie," Mara assured her.
     Laurel's multi-colored eyes glowed green, as if she were deliberately trying to mirror
her grandmother's expression. "You should stay way from the bad man, Gramma." Her
face was so serious it frightened Mara.
     "I will," Mara said, her voice slightly shaken. But just as quickly, Laurel's brilliant smile
filled her face and she took off back toward the ramp, where Vaiya's impatient
outstretched hand was waiting.
     Khameir appeared, dressed in the same style of clothes as before--the white tunic and
pants had seemed to become his uniform. He had a thin brown cloak about his shoulders,
complete with a hood that was thrown back and billowing in the breeze. Luke wasn't too
far behind him, a conspiratorial expression on his face.
     Mara shot a glance at Vaiya. She hadn't seen it. Then again, she didn't know her father
as well as his wife of almost forty years.
     "Done with the goodbyes?" Khameir asked, walking up to Vaiya. Promptly, Valeris
jumped him, and with hardly an effort Khameir heaved him onto his shoulder, letting him
perch there like an exotic bird.
     "Finally," Vaiya said, letting her mother hug her and returning it with one hand. "I love
you both, we'll be back before you know it."
     "Yeah, sure, heard that one before," Mara muttered, but pulled back. Vaiya was giving
her an odd look. "What? If I stayed too mushy you'd think something was wrong with me."
     Vaiya sighed. "I guess I should consider myself lucky that you're so unique."
     "Absolutely," Luke said, putting a hand on Mara's shoulder. "I do."
     Khameir ducked into nearly a crouch to get up the ramp without letting Valeris bump
his head. Valeris squealed with delight as he nearly touched the ship's ceiling. "Mommy!
Come see! Now I can fix things like Uncle Han and Chewie!"
     Vaiya rolled her eyes. "Goodbye," she said, and disappeared into the ship. The Emerald
Rogue promptly closed up its hatch and its legs withdrew from their stable position on the
ground. It levitated, lifted up a few feet, and then swung around to shoot away into the
atmosphere.
     "Okay, what's the deal, Luke?" Mara demanded, not looking at him.
     "We wait for three hours. Then we follow."
     "Three hours?" Mara cried, looking at him. "But that's not enough--"
     "You know, I haven't lived with you all these years and not learned something," Luke
stopped her. "Our ship is at the public bay. I've had them readying it since last night, when
Khameir and I agreed on this."
     Mara smiled. "You know, Luke, I don't care what Han says about you, you're no dumb
farmkid."
     He winked at her. "Are you gonna keep getting spunkier as you get older?"
     "Maybe. Depends on how many cricks I get in my back from carrying your dead
weight."
     "Hardy har. Come on, let's go get some stuff ready. We'll be in the air before we even
know it."
     "Sure. One thing first. Why?"
     "You mean you don't know? Are you getting slow--"
     "No, Luke, I mean it. You and Khameir conspiring...that is something that give me the
chills even thinking about it. Why?"
     Luke paused. "Mara, Maul is...was...Khameir's father. If there is anyone I'm going to
listen to about this, it's him."
     "And are you so sure that's wise?" Mara asked, cocking an eyebrow.
     "Since when do you doubt Khameir?"
     "I have no doubt in Khameir at all," Mara said. "But I also know about fathers and
sons." She sobered. "How bad is it, Luke?"
     Luke let out his breath. "Let's not waste any more time worrying about it, Mara. It won't
do us any good."

     Space was colder and lonelier than Vaiya remembered. Good thing that Khameir had
insisted on building a good size ship to travel in. The Emerald Rogue was about twice the
size of the Jaded Sky, which meant it was also larger than the Millennium Falcon. The
reason it was so large was because Khameir had built a sparring room in it for some reason
only known to him.
     Vaiya found out on the second day in space. He woke her up early in the morning, his
face stern.
     "Come on, we're going to practice."
     She pulled herself out of bed and went into her post-rising routine. But half-way
through it, Khameir attacked her from nowhere, she had to scramble for her lightsaber to
defend herself. They sparred until he had her cornered in the main room, and angrily she
pushed his blade away, letting her anger get the better of her.
     "What is your damage?" she snapped at him, turning her blade off.
     He looked at her. "Do you think Maul is going to give you a warning?" he shouted back
at her. "You haven't been practicing, not in months. You can't go into this cold, Vaiya. I
won't let you." He swung at her and she had to reignite quickly to counter him. She pushed
him back, taking the offensive too quickly for his tastes, and before he knew it she had
beaten him back and almost out of the room.
     Her purple blades clashed against his blue ones. He had long since taken out the red
crystals of his double-bladed lightsaber and replaced them with blue ones, unwilling to
dispense of his weapon but unwilling to endure the menacing red of the sith weapon any
longer. But while he had chosen the color of an apprentice, he was far from wet behind the
ears. He caught her jabs and her thrusts evenly, but he was losing ground.
     She didn't even know she was drawing from the dark side.
     It scared him, the way her face was so cold and focused as she badgered him. He could
feel the dark powers swirling about her, hiding themselves under the guise of deadly calm
and frigid concentration. She didn't even know how close she was to her rage, so deeply
buried it had gotten under the layers of grief she had never completely shed.
     "Vaiya!" he shouted at her when his foot slid out from under him and still she continued
to pound. "Stop!"
     "Would Maul stop?" she sneered, sweeping in a wide downward stroke. He barely got
his foot out from under him in time to give a good heavy jump and kick, flipping over her
head and making contact with her blade on his way down, pinning it to the floor.
     She did not relent.
     Whipping the blade out, she attacked again. The strength of her blows scared him as
badly as the anger that was starting to become visible in her face. He wanted to reach out
to her, tear that mask of the dark side from her expression, but he could barely breathe.
She had him in a corner, and he had only one last defense.
     He pulled himself upright, and used all his might to push forward with his right hand.
The Force levied a heavy hammer right into her chest, and she fell backward, losing her
balance and her grip on her weapon as she tumbled.
     Landing on her back with the wind knocked out of her, she gaped up at him in shock.
He hadn't meant to hurt her. Maul had shown him that trick himself, and it was incredibly
useful even if it did rely on dark-side energy. He had been trying and trying to use it again,
only this time in the light, and had never succeeded until now.
     "What are you doing?" she cried.
     "Me?" he shouted down at her. "What about you? You nearly killed me!"
     She abruptly shut her mouth at the accusation, and then curled her feet under her,
tucking her hands away under her armpits in an expression of desperate self-control. "My
God...I almost did, didn't I? I'm sorry, Kham, I don't know---"
     "I do," Khameir said, kneeling down before her. He gently took a stray lock of her hair
between his fingers and twirled it, a playful gesture. He felt the need to soften the blow of
his next words. "You're going too far into the dark side, Vaiya. Now it's starting to control
you and you didn't even know it."
     "The dark side," she whispered dispassionately. "I thought that was about seeking
power. I haven't been seeking power."
     "No, but you've been seeking an escape." He slid down into a sitting position, wanting
desperately to hold her and make her feel his words as well as hear them, but he didn't
dare. Not in the state she was in. "Vaiya, the dark path takes many forms. All of it is
selfishness in the end, not just power or envy or even hate."
     "Or lust," she whispered, glancing at him.
     "No," he shook his head. "You know why we're going to Coruscant, don't you?"
     "Of course. Because Laurel keeps having dreams."
     "She keeps having dreams because of you."
     Vaiya looked at him, startled. "What?"
     "She's your daughter. She's connected to you, as you were to your mother. As your aunt
Leia was to hers, Amidala. That's probably why Leia stayed with Amidala and your father
went with Kenobi." Khameir sighed. "She's feeling your hatred, Vaiya. You have to face
Maul once and for all and get rid of it. You have to face your grief."
     "Larin died a long time ago," Vaiya muttered.
     "Four years, almost," Khameir agreed. "But you are missing something, Vaiya. And we
have to get it back."
     "And Maul has it, is that what you're saying?"
     "No. You have it. You've always had it. But you won't see it until you get yourself out
of the way." He stood up, letting go of her hair. "I'm going to go wake the children." And
he left her to her thoughts.
     And such dark thoughts they were.

     The Jedi Council sat in session, their wide chairs facing each other in a circular fashion.
Jedi Knight Leia Organa Solo had gotten used to her role among them, but there were
problems that had been humming just under the surface for the last decade.
     She was a Skywalker, loyal to her brother. And the council did not like Luke. They did
not like the fact that he taught the ways of the Force with a focus on any supreme Creator
as being the Author of the Force. They had gone so far as to request that their Jedi did not
train at the Academy on Yavin IV. While many, loyal to the Skywalker Tradition, seeing
as how he was the first of them since the purges, remained with the Academy and
continued to train Jedi under careful direction, more did not. The Council had returned to
the old ways--Jedi Masters trained apprentices, one on one. And they trained them young,
extremely young. The apprentices were getting younger by the years. Only a few weeks
ago one of the Masters had begun training of a five-year old Zeltron who had shown
incredible Force ability.
     Zeltrons...Leia smiled, remembering the intolerance of her youth. She had never been
able to stomach Zeltrons, and had experiences such humiliating incidents involving the
pink-skinned race that she cringed at the very thought of coming into contact with them.
But after the Nagai-Toff War, as the New Republic had dubbed it, she did not see them as
so loathsome anymore. They were a good people, if a bit too fierce in their love-and-war
-making ways. They were not the cold warriors that so many races could be, like the
Nagai.
     Funny how she should think so much of that now, that those memories should be so
fresh in her mind. But since Luke's son,  Ben, had discovered Den Siva and his long-lost
party, she could not help but wonder about his old love, Dani. Not that Dani would have
ever tolerated being called Den Siva's "love."
     There was a special reason for today's gathering. One of the Jedi Masters had died--
actually, she had been murdered--and she needed to be replaced on the council. Nominated
for the position had been a beautiful Nagai Jedi named Wyntrina Caspian, her hair
silver-white and her skin as pale as Hoth's snow. None of the other candidates had stood
much of a chance against her. While Leia was sure that Wyntrina was half her age, she was
sure that the woman possessed twice the wisdom. She spoke in that quiet, eloquent way,
much like Den had.
     Wyntrina had just been granted her seat and was being initiated into the many *secrets*
of the council. Leia had to smirk at how seriously this group took themselves. Having
headed the New Republic government for so long, and still advising her son, Jacen Solo,
she had had to keep secrets more important and certainly more dangerous than those held
by these Jedi. But still, she smiled and nodded and raised her eyebrows when necessary. It
was always wise, she had learned, to just play along until she was more sure of herself.
     The Nagai had such eyes--Leia had never seen the like. They were ice-blue, but
strangely warm, friendly, compassionate eyes. They were decorated in such an odd but
beautiful fashion. Apparently, she had been rather rowdy during her early youth and had
received a warrior's tattoo on her face. There were dark waving colored lines of purple,
green, blue, grey and black streaking from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks,
and around her eyes themselves it looked like she had on a thick mask of black, purple and
deep blue eyeshadows, but they were thicker, like paint--also part of the tattoo. To get such
an intricate design done so close to a sensitive area made Leia look again in mild awe. She
must have been nearly impervious to pain to endure so much delicate work.
     An hour passed. Leia felt herself ready to nod off. But finally, they were bringing the
meeting to a close. Before Master Niko G'hen, with his horse-like face, could adjourn
everyone, Wyntrina stood up.
     "Master Caspian," Niko addressed her. "You wish to speak?"
     "Yes, Master G'hen, I do." She gave everyone a very delicate smile. "As you know,
there has recently been a recovery of my people from an unfortunate incident on Endor."
     "Yes, we are aware of those frozen is stasis on Endor," Niko said.
     "I wish to ask that they be placed under Jedi protection."
     There was a distinct murmur, but the council seemed to accept the request amiably.
     "May I ask why?" Niko asked.
     "Certainly. When they were captured, they were being sent to the dead world of
Iridonia to colonize it, am I correct?"
     All glances shot toward Leia, who nodded. "Yes, and they are being sent on their way,
to try again. They had all the protection and aid the New Republic can give them, Master
Caspian," Leia added. "I do not understand your concern."
     "I fear for my people," she said simply. "They are lost in this new time, and I fear that
they might be in danger, going to Iridonia. That is the Zabrak homeworld, is it not?"
     "Yes," Niko murmured. "But the Zabrak have been wiped out."
     "All save one," Wyntrina pointed out. "Darth Maul still lives. I believe that Maul is a
threat. And if my people are being sent to the Zabrak homeworld, I would like to insure
their protection against the threat of a sith lord who might one day return to his home, in
spite of its current state." Her expression was very grave, and Leia wondered if anyone
would dare refuse her.
     "Very well," Niko finally said. "We shall vote on it." And the vote was unanimously in
favor of aiding the Nagai.
     "I am pleased," Wyntrina said, bowing slightly and pressing folded hands to her chest.
"I thank you."
     They stood to leave, but Wyntrina remained in her place in front of her seat. As Leia
neared her, the white-haired woman raised her head. "Greetings, Jedi Organa-Solo," she
said. "May I speak with you?"
     "Certainly."
     "Are you on your way back to the palace?" Wyntrina asked. "I would be willing to walk
with you."
     "Yes, but I'm in no hurry. Please, is there something bothering you?" Leia frowned, still
amazed at her ability to pick up on others' emotions, even strong Jedi like Wyntrina.
     "Not entirely. I am concerned, however," she said as they fell in line, side by side,
heading out of the tower. "Darth Maul did have a son, did he not?"
     "Yes, Khameir Sarin," Leia confirmed. She paused. "You do not think that he would be
a threat?"
     "No, he has long since shed his Zabrak heritage."
     Leia grunted. "I wasn't aware that that was common knowledge."
     Wyntrina looked disturbed. "I confess, Jedi Organa-Solo--"
     "Leia," she corrected her.
     "Leia," Wyntrina amended, "that I have had a disturbing vision. It is not very clear.
But I fear for the safety of your niece's children." She paused again, looking up and into
the starry sky. "I know that Darth Maul is near this place. I can feel his presence, although
there is nothing I can do about it. This battle is not mine, it is your brother's and his
family's. But I wish to warn you--there is grave danger of the dark side for your family."
     "As there has always been," Leia assured her. "You must know that Luke and I are the
children of Anakin Skywalker, better known as Darth Vader."
     Wyntrina smiled. "Yes, I have heard of Vader. No, even though I know your family's
history, this is a new chapter. I would ask that you simply be aware."
     "I will share your concerns with my niece when she arrives," Leia said.
     Wyntrina stopped. "She is coming here?" she asked, a pale shade of horror in her voice.
     Leia stopped and turned, looking at her in concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
     Wyntrina raised her hand, and Leia saw it was shaking. "Take care, Lady Vader," she
said, and her voice sounded so eerie it didn't even sound like hers. "The blood of the dark
side runs thick in your family. Sometimes there is wisdom in charging into the wolf's
mouth, and sometimes there is not." She stopped, and her face cleared. "I am sorry, Leia. I
did not mean--"
     "No," Leia said, raising her hand to silence her. "You have seen something. You must
tell me."
     "All I can see is a red and black mask," Wyntrina said. "In the dream. But it isn't Maul.
It's the mask itself, alive and evil. And it is on Master Vaiya Jade Skywalker's face."

*******
     He rarely dreamed. The fact that he did dream disturbed him greatly, for it meant he
was unable to shut out the natural course of the world, unable to have complete control
over his mind, that it would take strolls down unknown paths and show him possibilities
and fantasies that he would as soon ignore.
     But he did dream. Lately, he dreamed of her.
     Maul sat in the dark, cool room that overlooked the jungle outside. Here on Iridonia, it
was not so different than the world he had once known, heavily populated and thick with
commerce. But the streets that he had lived on as a child were gone. The concrete had
been devoured by the earth, leaving nothing but faint white traces where it had once lain.
The jungle had thrived, as it always would, but it was wilder now, thicker, less hospitable
to the life it supported.
     But his people had survived.
     When they'd come here, four years ago, he had been nearly devastated. Only Iyala's
close presence had kept him from losing control--not her presence, specifically, but that of
his master that she carried, Darth Sidious in her young, lovely body, thriving on her
lifeforce and using her as his tool. The descendant of his dead wife and his former master
who had had her slain, rolled into one demonic creature.
     Being with her--he thought of her as a her simply to keep himself from going mad--was
unlike anything he had ever known in all his dark years. But the sight of his home so
completely ruined had almost been enough to break him.
     "Who did this?" Maul hissed.
     Iyala grunted. "Who do you think, Maul?" she said, her voice lower, deeper, more
rumbling with the diabolical arrogance that Sidious had always shown. "Do you think the
Jedi would allow your people to survive? When they realized that you were Zabrak, they
destroyed your homeworld, thinking that they were all like you." Then she grunted. "It
matters little, my young sith. Your people were weak. Only the strong survive."
     And they had. His people had survived, hiding among the ruins at first and then moving
back into the jungle, creating their homes in the huge trees that wove together over the
rocky floor, the trunks a veritable labyrinth of hiding places. When he and Iyala had found
them, they had feared them at first and run away, but after several months of vicious
attacks and Iyala's incredible dark side energies, they had come to them on their knees,
begging to serve them if it would only spare their lives.
     Maul had little doubt that Iyala was lying when she said that the Jedi had wiped out the
Zabrak, but he found that he didn't care either way. His sentimentality was something to be
ignored. How could he show emotions over a childhood home and feel bitterness toward
Sidious when it was Sidious who had ordered him to kill Iyala, to prove his loyalty and
strength in the dark side?
     The years passed...four of them. They hid here, the remaining Zabrak serving them,
bringing food, doing work, struggling to rebuild a tower at Iyala's command. In the wild,
she had no way to watch the rest of the galaxy. And what was an Emperor without a
throne? So she had them build a palace for them, which had only reached its true
completion a few months ago. Scraps of technology had been found, brought in from all
four corners of the land and put together to rebuild a holonet that would allow Iyala access
to the rest of civilization.
     She was growing impatient here. It was not like Sidious to rest for long, although he
had known how to bide his time, to be patient. Patience had been his strongest weapon,
and it had served him well. But in Iyala's body, he seemed to forget many things.
     She had changed, as well. Perhaps that was it. She had aged, and aged rapidly. Her
beautiful, dark face was sagging with heavy lines, and while she did not look old, she did
look ravaged, like she had been heavily scarred in some battle. Her body's frame was still
light, and she still moved like the young woman she was, but her face...
     Not like the face in his dreams.
     When he had first seen her, he strove to ignore her. But she would not let him. Again
and again, she showed herself to him, sometimes close enough to touch and sometimes
only a speck in the distance, but still there. He always knew it was her--her eyes were
green, not the golden brown that Iyala of the present possessed. Piercing, fiery green, like
those of Mara Jade, like those of his son.
     He saw the boy sometimes, but as the boy he'd known, not the man who despised him,
the one who had betrayed the cult and joined the light. There was too much of his mother
in him, Maul had finally concluded, but he could not dismiss either one. They would not
let him.
     At first, she only appeared to him, looking at him, sometimes in pity, sometimes in
disgust, sometimes in accusation. It had lasted a long time, but recently she had begun to
act. She showed him the wound in her chest where he had slain her. In the dreams, he
could smell her burning flesh. She showed him her wrists where he had abused her,
twisting them behind her back so he could ravish her body against her will. She showed
him other scars, some of them terrifyingly clear and some dull. Then she showed him
scenes from their life, like the day they had first met, the day he had known she carried his
child, the day Khameir Sarin the younger was born, and finally the day Maul had
abandoned her.
     This last vision, the one he had seen last night, was like none of the others. In that
vision, she had fought him like she had on the day he killed her, but this time she fought
like she knew what she was doing, using the cortis ore's power to disable both his
lightsabers and finally knock the weapon from his hand, a smoldering heap. Then she
held the sizzling blade to his throat, as if she wanted to strike him dead.
     But she pulled back, and he woke up.
     He did not understand.
     "Maul."
     The word was sharp and quick, not the usual lazy slur that Iyala usually used. He
jumped upright and then stood. She was looking at him, her lined face locked into a scowl.
     "I have been calling for you," she said, deceptively calm. "Have you been sleeping?"
     "No, my Master," he said, folding his arms before him.
     She nodded. "I see. Daydreaming, then." The disdain was almost painful. "I had thought
you free from such fancy." She sighed. "Or perhaps it is me you are displeased with, that
you feel the need to wander into fantasy?"
     He raised his eyebrows. The look on Iyala's face was almost pained now. As if she had
something to say...and he began to wonder if it were truly her and not the dark spirit that
possessed her that wished to say it. "No, my Master."
     She grunted, then chuckled, but it was mocking. "Please, Maul. I am no fool. Not
having a body may have made me forgetful of its needs, but there are some things I could
never forget."
     Maul shuddered. He knew what his Master spoke of, and it repulsed him. He had not
been able to touch her since she became Sidious...but still, Iyala seemed to attempt to
seduce him daily, as if waiting for him to resume his old habit. Somehow, he could not
bring himself to do it. Whenever he looked into her eyes, it was a reminder that she was
not herself, but someone else. Someone...male.
     He looked away. "Forgive me, my master, but I don't know--"
     "Of course you don't." She turned her back on him. Maul attempted to resist a feeling of
triumph. It was the only thing he had over her--the fact that she wanted him. But he
wouldn't touch her for all the dark power in the universe.
     "This body is failing me," she said, her voice returning to the low, slithering overtones.
"It was not strong in the Force. It was nearly unable to sustain me in the beginning, but I
adjusted because its spirit was willing. But the spirit is no longer willing, and I must
leave."
     Maul stepped closer. It would have angered him, his inability to understand himself and
his feelings for her. Unable to touch her, but unwilling to part with her--"My Master, no--"
     "We must find another occupant," she continued. "Perhaps someone younger, someone
strong in the Force."
     He searched his mind. "There are many to choose from, Master."
     "Yes, but few fit to be chosen." She considered. "Maul," she drawled, "that spawn of
my disobedient daughter Mara--Vaiya--she bore children, did she not?"
     "Yes, my Master. Two children. A boy and a girl."
     "Excellent. I have foreseen that they are no longer on that accursed world of Durran."
She paused for a long moment, and Maul could practically feel the dark spirits coursing
around them. "Courscant," she said, almost dreamily. "They are on Coruscant."
     "Yes, my Master?"
     "Perhaps it is time to make a trip home."

     Vaiya thought they would never reach Coruscant. A single hour more of Khameir and
his preaching about the dark side and she was going to blow space chunks out the
emergency porthole. And maybe toss him out with them.
     She stopped herself. She had never thought of Khameir as annoying before. At least,
she had never manifested that thought so strongly. And it really wasn't fair--he wasn't being
a pest like her father would have been, or even her mother. A long time ago, Khameir's
gentle prodding had been a comfort to her, a way to stay on the straight and narrow path.
     Perhaps it wasn't Khameir who was flawed...perhaps it was herself, as the straight and
narrow path seemed so much less appealing now.
     She sighed, gazing out the window of the small rec room. Coruscant loomed brilliantly
below them, its planet-city structures glistening in the setting sun. They had reached the
planet on its evening side, and by the time they landed the former Imperial Palace would
be enveloped in night.
     As much as it could be, anyway.
     No, Khameir had been a blessing. At first, it had been odd. She didn't know what to
make of him and his sudden desire to protect her. She was used to Khameir having many
desires concerning her--as his former self, Darth Seth. Protecting her had always been a
part of that, but this was different. They fell into an actual friendship, a comraderie that
she had never experienced before. She had never realized how natural they were
together...not until the night she went into labor with the twins.
     It had happened to her while she was patiently meditating in the garden--the sweet
scent of the flowers last days was blending with the chill in the air, but the pain that
suddenly tore through her abdomen was anything but sweet and cold. She'd struggled to
stand, but another pain came, and then another---fast, hard labor. Not the gentle cycle that
she had been told to expect, with the first few pains coming long minutes apart, but quick,
alarmingly quick.
     She struggled to her feet, gathering her wits and her calming techniques about her to
quiet some of the pain, but she knew what her body was telling her. She made the thirty
odd feet to the doorway in as much of a hurry as was possible for her in her current state,
and pulled out the commlink to alert the local medcenter that she was coming.
Unfortunately, the comm-operator who received her signal was new, and it took Vaiya
several minutes to explain to her who she was and who her doctor was. By the time
everything was worked out and the operator told her there was a hospital shuttle on its
way, Vaiya's knees felt weak and there was a heavy gush of water against the insides of her
knees.
     Her water had broken.
     She pushed herself away from the wall where the commlink was, only to turn around
and find Khameir running up to her.
     He had always known when she was in trouble. She managed to give him a feeble smile
before he caught her in his arms. He made her sit down in a nearby chair, but it was almost
comical, seeing his cool, straight-lined face suddenly contorted by what appeared to be
panic--watching a woman give birth was a completely new experience for him.
     "I take it the Cult of the Destroyer never prepared you for the Destroyer's actual birth,
did they?" she said as he pulled off his cloak and laid it over her.
     "That was one area where I never recieved training, no."
     She snorted. "How old are you anyway?"
     "Last count...I believe somewhere in my eighties, but I'm not sure." The troubled look
on his face made her reach out and caress his cheek.
     "Well, I never believed that you can't teach an old tauntaun new tricks."
     The humming sound of the shuttle overhead pulled his attention away from her for a
split second, and then he turned back to gather her up in his arms--in spite of her sudden
protest that she could walk--and get her into the shuttle.
     A mere ten minutes later she was in a birthing room, the dim yellow light of the sunset
casting everything in a pale orange-pink glow. Khameir stayed close, but he paced the
room by her bed as he waited. The puzzlement on his face got her attention, in spite of the
heavy concentration she was putting into keeping the pain down.
     "I do not understand...why have you not already given birth?"
     She almost laughed. "I guess my children are shy."
     The doctor entered, having just heard the last part of the conversation. "Your parents
are outside, Vaiya. Do you want them to come in?"
     She groaned as another contraction shook her. Khameir stepped closer, but still seemed
to want to jump back, unsure of what to do. She managed to wag her head. "I'm fine," she
moaned. "Khameir is here..." She let out her breath and rested her head on the pillows as
the pain subsided. "That was a doozy."
     The doctor nodded. He lifted up the end of the pullover robe they had given her to
wear. "You're almost fully dialated. This was a very fast labor, Vaiya, but it's not totally
unheard of."
     "Wonderful. That makes me feel a lot better," she muttered.
     "Vaiya?" Khameir said, almost whispering.
     "Yes?" she said, turning her head to look at him.
     "Are you...is there..." He was looking her up and down---her lying on the bed with the
head turned upright so she couldn't lie back, but her feet out in stirrups. She couldn't be
comfortable--she could read the thought on his face, the way his brow was rumpled by a
frown. "What should I do?"
     She smiled. The sweat was starting to run down her face as another pain came, this one
making her whimper sound more like a squeak. He was at her side now, his gentle hands
brushing away the sweat, getting it away from her eyes and pushing back the strands of
hair matted to her skin.
     "You know, you're so cute when you act like a human being." And then, she started to
realize that she had just said those words out loud. He was grinning down at her.
     "Okay, Vaiya," the doctor cut in. "You're ready to push."
     "When? Now?" But as soon as the words were out, a pain so terrible seized her that she
sat almost upright and howled. She bore down on all her lower muscles and pushed with
all of her might.
     Khameir's arms were around her when she fell back, panting.
     "Wonderful!" the doctor said, almost invisible behind the folds of her robe and he
crouched to catch the first twin. "Again!"
     Khameir was so close to her, closer than he had been in a long, long time. He was
panting, as if he had been pushing with her, his strength becoming her strength. She felt
the solid rock of his chest and felt comfort, and gathered the strength up for another go.
     Within the next ten minutes, both Laurel and Valeris were screaming in the arms of the
midwives, being cleaned off as Vaiya lay back, spent.
     Khameir's expression of wonder as the babes were wrapped and brought to their mother
was priceless. Valeris, the younger of the two, was the first in his mother's embrace, and
Laurel wound up being snatched by Khameir when it became clear that Vaiya was a little
too tired for the huge armful the children made. He held the baby close to Vaiya could
touch her.
     "Great Yejion," she whispered. "Both of those came out of me?"
     Khameir chuckled. "Maybe once they've dried off a bit."
     "And don't have all those wrinkles."
     He touched the tiny hand that waved at him. "So small," he murmured. "So completely
unaware."
     "Yes," she murmured. "So totally innocent."
     One hand went through her damp blond curls. "I will do everything in my power to
make sure they remain that way, Vaiya," he assured her, kneeling down beside her on one
knee.
     "Thank you, my friend," she replied, reaching for his hand. "But I fear that is a promise
that may not be meant to be kept."
     A voice from outside of herself broke her reverie. "I will keep it," it said, low and
murmuring from behind her. A chill went through her chest...a chill she had not felt since
nearly ancient times, when she was little more than a girl, fighting against a cult of demons
and struggling to save a soul she did not even know, but instantly loved. A time when she
was advised by angels and knew her path, or at least trusted that it had been laid out before
her and she would walk it, never straying from it but safe in the Hand of the One who had
called her.
     She turned and looked up at Khameir, feeling an enormous sadness. He looked so
different--gone was the white wrap-around tunic and trousers and heavy brown robe. He
was dressed in a striking black uniform, like the one she and her father sometimes wore
for official functions. The uniform of a true Jedi Knight of the New Order.
     It seemed so odd to her that  until that moment she had never fully realized how
handsome he was. His face had that delicate, chiseled look that gave him a natural
mischievousness when he smiled--the kind that was generally irresistible. Relaxed, there
was a thoughtfulness there, the kind that suggested the deepest of thoughts.
     And then of course, there were his eyes. They were fixated on her, that passion coming
to the surface for only a few moments before he returned it to the dark secret hiding place
in his heart. Once he had always looked at her in that way. But now, he kept it back, letting
her see it only on the rarest of occasions when his guard was down.
     She began to wonder if he thought of her so much anymore. She could not expect his
heart to hold on forever, as he had once said it would. After all, he was only human, and
no human could live with an unfulfilled desire forever.
     "Vaiya?" he said in that voice of his...still dark and raspy like his father's, but warmer,
slightly higher, more human. "Are you all right?"
     "Hmm?" Was it her imagination, or had he spoken previously, as if reading her
thoughts? "Yes, I'm fine," she said, dismissing it to save her pride.
     Since when had that been important?
     "All right. We've gotten clearance and we're getting ready to land." He hesitated,
glancing out the porthole. "Your Aunt Leia is waiting to greet us. She says that the council
wants to speak with us. They're wanting to question us about the possible threat of a Sith
Lord. Apparently, someone has been having visions."
     Vaiya snorted. The council. Wonderful. That was all she needed...those arrogant, high-
and-mighty self-proclaimed masters that took every chance they got at snubbing her father
and looking down their pointy noses--or whatever they used as noses--at her. She
considered the possibility that they liked her even less than her father, considering it was
she who had introduced religion into the training of a Jedi Knight.
     "Whatever," she muttered.
     "Vaiya," he said, a warning in his voice.
     "Oh, hush." She stood up and left the room. "You do your thing, I'll do mine, and let's
leave it at that, shall we?" she shouted over her shoulder at him before disappearing around
the corner, leaving Khameir to shake his head in her wake once again.

     "Lady Vader," Leia said to her husband as she pulled on her cloak.
     "Huh?" Han said, scratching his head and casting a glance toward the Noghori
bodyguard at the door. "Since when do you call yourself that?"
     "No," Leia said, shaking her head. "When Wyntrina told me about her vision, she called
me Lady Vader."
     "And she's still walking around with both legs?" Han teased as Leia put on her
lightsaber.
     "No, it wasn't an insult. It was a compulsive thing, I know that. But I don't know why."
     "Well, I'm not worried about you turning to the dark side," Han said, kissing her
forehead as she moved toward the door. "If all these years of marriage and raising three
Jedi Knights haven't made you go bad, nothing will. Even a ten-horned sith lord."
     "But Han," Leia said, "what if there's some sort of Force-influence created by blood?
What if by blood people can be inclined to the dark side?"
     "That's ridiculous. If that were true you and Luke and Mara would all have been sith
lords."
     "Right, because we were able to fight. Maybe it's also because we only had half a sith
lord's blood. What about Vaiya? I mean, she's not just related to Vader, she related to
Palpatine through Mara! What if she's inclined to fall to the dark side because of that?"
     "If Luke were here," Han said as the door to their apartment opened, "he'd tell you that
you always have the power to choose."
     "Right, I know that, but what if by blood you ATTRACT dark side influences?"
     "Like a certain pain-in-the-ass sith lord?"
     "What if the reason Vaiya's come here is because she's trying to draw him out?" Leia
paled. "The Council will have her head on a stick."
     "If they can catch her." But Han's face darkened. "Do you think she'd do that?"
     "If she's not...then maybe he's trying to draw her out."
     "Either way, Princess," he said as Wyntrina came around the corner, "the party around
here never ends."
     Leia turned to see the white-haired woman appear. "Jedi Caspian," she greeted her with
a little bow. "What can I do for you?"
     "Greetings, Jedi Organa Solo," Wyntrina returned the bow. "I was wondering if I might
accompany you. I would very much like to meet your niece and her children...and her
companion."
     Leia nodded, and frowned slightly. "I see."
     "Please," Wyntrina added, and there was a small, rueful smile on her face. "If I have
had such visions about them, I feel I owe it to them to meet them in person."
     Han chuckled. "She's got a point."
     "Very well," Leia said graciously. Just then the commlink beeped and Han answered it.
"Good news, kids," he said. "They've landed."

     "I would like to introduce to you," Leia said, after Han had already gotten to hug his
niece, "Jedi Master Wyntrina Caspian."
     Vaiya smoothed her hair as she coolly looked Wyntrina over. She reminded her, in a
distant way, of Winter, Leia's old friend from Alderaan, although Wyntrina's skin was a
pure white. And her eyes were decorated in a rather odd way--tendrils of color streaked
from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks, creating an odd mask-like effect.
     It seemed to have Khameir's attention, she noticed.
     "This is Vaiya Jade Skywalker and Khameir Sarin," Leia said to Wyntrina. "And these
are Vaiya's children, Laurel and Valeris."
     The child glanced at the white woman from where they huddled under Han's still-strong
arms, turning slightly after receiving their bear-hug. "Hello," they said in unison.
     Wyntrina smiled down at them. "Fraternal twins," she said. "How beautiful. I have
never seen twins before."
     Vaiya frowned slightly. "Where are you from, may I ask, Jedi Caspian?"
     "I am from Nagai. Your brother, Valery Ben, may have told you of the Nagai people.
He recently recovered--"
     "Yes, I know," Vaiya said, nodding. "Nagai...I wasn't aware that there were any Force-
strong Nagai."
     "Neither were we, until Wyntrina joined the council," Leia offered.
     "And where did you receive your training from, then?" Vaiya continued, crossing her
arms.
     Wyntrina gave her a gracious smile. "Master Vaiya, I confess that I did not come from
the Skywalker school. But I did receive my training from a Jedi Knight who came to visit
my people in their settlement. He recognized the potential in me and took it upon himself
to apprentice me."
     "What was his name?"
     "Vaiya," Khameir said, rather sharply.
     "It is a just question," Wyntrina offered. "His name was Kyp Durron."
     "Kyp?" Han said. "That must have been a long time ago."
     "It was," Wyntrina said. "My apprenticeship only lasted five years, but I was able to
learn from the many others I have encountered over the years."
     "As I recall," Khameir said, giving Vaiya a pointed look, "Master Luke's training only
lasted a little under a month under the great Master Yoda."
     Vaiya grunted. "Time matters not, as Master Yoda would have said," she muttered.
     Wyntrina met her look, but did not speak again.
     "Well," Han said, one little hand in each of his, "I say we get you all settled."
     "Yes," Leia said, observing the staring contest between the two women. "That sounds
good. Vaiya, will you be staying in your parents old apartments?"
     "We may as well," Vaiya said, turning her eyes from Wyntrina's silver-blue ones.
     Han led the children away and Leia followed, linking arms with Vaiya. Vaiya fell in
step with her, but suddenly and abruptly paused to look over her shoulder. Her eyes fixed
on Khameir, who had just approached Wyntrina.
     Whatever they were saying, it was exchanged in a very low voice.
     Leia gave her a gentle tug. "I should have told you I was bringing one of the council
members."
     "Ah, so that's what she is," Vaiya said, a note of disdain in her voice as she finally
turned away. Leia swore she saw a terrible flash of jealousy in those aquamarine orbs
before they clouded over into an impenetrable look.
     "She wanted to come and meet you," Leia said.
     "Why?" Vaiya spat.
     "She claims that you're in danger."
     Vaiya gave an equally sharp laugh. "So tell me what else is new?"
     Leia frowned. "Are you okay?"
     "Oh, sure, I'm as fine as you would be if you had to listen to Khameir and his dark side
lectures for a week in an enclosed space with no escape except out into the vacuum of
space. There were a few hours there where it didn't seem like a bad idea." She sighed. "I'm
sorry, Aunt Leia...it was just a long trip."
     "Well...if Khameir was lecturing you so much, I'm sure he had a reason. I mean,
considering how little he actually...talks." She gave her niece a smile, trying to lighten her
mood a bit.
     Vaiya snorted again. "Yeah..."
     "And with Wyntrina having visions as well...maybe there's something you haven't
looked at yet."
     "I'm sure I'll get an eye and earful over the next couple of days." She barely resisted
looking over her shoulder again. "Wonderful," she muttered. "Just wonderful. Next thing
you know you'll all have me on a dark side watch."

     "I just wanted to apologize," Khameir said. The white-haired woman smiled and
nodded at him, still gracious. She seemed to have that same wise look about her that Vaiya
had once had...youthful, but aged at the same time. She had such a smooth face, but she
carried herself like she was older than he was. It wasn't like she was old, but more like she
was incredibly dignified.
     He liked her very much.
     "No need," Wyntrina said. "Your friend is going through a very rough time. Grief
affects people in odd ways."
     "It's been four years," he protested. "She has no right--"
     "No, but four years matters very little. She has pushed many things away in order to get
from day to day, and perhaps I am at fault for insinuating myself among you so quickly."
She looked toward Vaiya's and Leia's retreating backs.
     "Having lived with her for as many years," Khameir said, also looking toward Vaiya, "I
confess that I have found few excuses for her behavior. She has everything she could ask
for."
     "Except love," Wyntrina said softly.
     "Untrue," Khameir said. "She has the love of everyone around her."
     "Everyone around her loves her, but that does not mean that she has their love. To have
love you must accept it." Wyntrina frowned. "But there is so much anger. The children,
who is their father?"
     "His name was Larin. He was from Durran, he had been an exile and was stripped of his
last name, so when he married Vaiya she gave hers to him." Khameir cocked his head to
one side. "Larin gave his life to save her, to save all of us. Many others besides. He was a
great hero, a martyr. In her faith he is almost venerated. I do not understand why she would
still be so angry."
     Wyntrina gave him a little smile. "Perhaps she is angry at him for choosing his faith over
her, for choosing to die as he was called to do, rather than remain with her. Or perhaps she
blames the One Of Many Names for calling him to Eternity, or both."  She shook her head.
"In the end, he was taken from her. Nothing can comfort her unless she allows it to."
     Khameir nodded. "But that does not explain your vision."
     Wyntrina sighed. "Now is not the time for such talk. Go with your friend, but do not
speak to her again about the dark side. Your lectures may only be making her angrier, and
that is what the Evil One wants. Only show her love, that is all you can do. When you are
ready, you can come and see me whenever you wish." She gave him another one of her
smiled, bowed, and left.
     Khameir watched her go, then turned and followed in the direction where the others
had gone. For some reason, he was not feeling any better about any of this. The fact that
Wyntrina Caspian, who had never met Vaiya in her life until this day, was having
disturbing visions about her was not a good omen.
     In his heart, he resisted the urge to curse his father for the hundred thousandth time.

     Vaiya found herself, once again, staring out the window. This time it was sunrise on
Coruscant, and she was waiting for the children to wake up. The heavy sun came over the
horizon like a trumpet of light, striking every reflective surface of the planet-city and
making it sparkle like a network of precious, exotic gems. But all the beauty looked pale
and dim to her eyes. She was restless, like she was waiting for something...something
terrible.
     It did not help that Khameir had risen early this morning and left. She was angry at him,
even though in her heart she knew that was irrational. What did she expect, for him to
stand over her shoulder for the rest of her life? She had not wanted that on Durran, why
should she want it here?
     Of course...because he had gone to see Wyntrina.
     She forced her face to relax. The heavy scowl she had been carrying was starting to
make her muscles ache. In the back of her mind, she felt the familiar tingle of her
children's Force-presence. They were stirring, and soon the day would begin.
     She did not know what to do with herself in this place. It seemed so alien to her, the
heavy city, the leisure time. She was used to her life on Durran, her training and her
responsibilities...what responsibilities she had had. Come to think of it, her life had been
slowing down toward an uncharacteristic atrophy lately. She was always restless, lax,
doing nothing but watching her children grow. While to some that may have seemed like a
job enough unto itself, she was not with her children all the time. Most of her days were
lost in meditation, the peaceful, empty meditation that blocked out the still vivid pain of
loss.
     *Larin.*
     Not a day went by when she did not think of him. His face, his eyes, the feel of him
holding her. Not a day went by when she did not tear up in grief. Not a night went by when
she did not tell her children of their father, but only in those tellings was she able to feel
some joy at the thought of him. Otherwise, it brought only the agony of her loneliness.
     She shut her eyes. The Nagai Jedi--Wyntrina. He was with her. She didn't know how
she knew, she just did. And why wouldn't Khameir enjoy her company? Wyntrina was
everything she was not--young, beautiful, free. Not burdened by the heavy chains to a life
long since dead. She was wise and spirited, much like Vaiya had once been.
     Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she should just let him go. She even thought she
had the strength to smile and laugh and act like it didn't bother her, just to make him
happy, to pretend she wanted him to go to her just to save her the slow agony of losing him
as well. For a minute, before she lost herself in caring for her children, she actually
believed it.
     The morning passed uneventfully. She dressed the children, fed them, played with
them, trained them like her own mother had once trained her, showing them how to
manipulate the Force to lift objects into the air.
     Valeris handled himself beautifully, as usual, but Laurel lost control of herself and
wound up dropping a very valuable glass sculpture. Vaiya cursed herself aloud for ever
letting her pick it up and then yelled at the children for not making more careful choices.
Laurel ran off to hide in her room, and Valeris sunk into the kitchen nook to watch his
mother.
     The beautiful morning crumbled. But it was not enough. When Khameir returned at
noon, she did not even bother to look at his face and see the terrible disturbance there.
Instead, she snapped at him for being gone for so long and asked him sarcastically how the
great and noble Nagai Jedi was on this fine morning, she hoped it was worth it, etc.
     "Vaiya, what's wrong?" was his only reply.
     "What's wrong?" she nearly roared, turning on him, eyes burning but not seeing.
"What's wrong, you ask? How can you ask me that? Are you stupid as well as blind? You
lure me here with some big promise about solving our problems and then the first chance
you get you run off to be with some other girl right in my face!"
     He scowled. "What? Vaiya, are you sure--"
     "If you ask me if I'm all right I swear to heaven I will shove this broom right down your
throat! Sideways!" Then she hurled it to the ground at his feet. "I am certainly not all right!
My daughter is having nightmares and there's nothing we can do about it, you're spending
all of your time with some floozy Jedi when we came here to help the children--"
     "We haven't been here twenty four hours--"
     "Don't interrupt me when I'm ranting!" she screeched. Her face turned bright, molten
red and her ears burned. Her throat felt like it was coated with lava and it wouldn't have
surprised her if she had spewed sulfurous bile just then at his feet. "And to top it all off,
I'm stuck here with nothing to do but clean up stupid messes and wait for some
pointy-headed sith lord and his harlot demon master to come and pick a fight!"
     Khameir just stared at her. He would have spoken, but he was terrified that any words
from him would just cause another bout of screaming. He glanced toward the children.
Only one of Larin's bright green eyes was visible around the counter's edge, and the
shadow of Laurel in her bedroom was barely visible in the hallway.
     "You're scaring the children," he said, his voice stern. "Stop it right now."
     Abruptly, she pulled back, like a giant cat interrupted in mid-pounce. But her fists
clenched and her jaw snapped shut so tightly he could hear her teeth grinding. Parting her
lips just enough, she said, "I suppose that's all you care about."
     He glared at her. "Suggest something so insane again and I swear, woman, I'll send you
through the window. And if you think I won't do it--try me."
     That got her. Her face fell, her eyebrows raised and her face immediately lost is
crunched death-glare. Her jaw slackened and her shoulder slumped, even her fingers feel
straight at her sides in the shockwave. She pulled back her chin just a bit, her eyes
widening in surprise. She seemed to consider, just for a moment, testing him. Just to see if
he was as big as his word.
     Instead of humoring her, he dropped to one knee and extended an arm toward Valeris.
Without hesitation, the boy came to him, and Khameir hugged him.
     "Go to your room, and tell your sister not to be afraid," he whispered.
     "But Uncle Kham," the boy whispered back.
     "Listen to me. This is important. Everything will be fine, I promise."
     "Promise?"
     "Yes. Now go, and shut the door behind you."
     Valeris stepped away, out of the safe embrace of his uncle, and turned and looked at his
mother. If Vaiya had been far enough out of her jealous rage, she would have seen that the
boy wanted a hug. His eyes were hopeful, loving, maintaining that peace that Larin had
always tried so hard to radiate, even in his worst moments. He wanted reassurance that she
loved him, that her screaming and shouting wasn't his fault, that she didn't hate him for
letting his sister break the glass sculpture...but she didn't see it. Her eyes were locked on
Khameir, smoldering with resentment, and the boy gave a little sigh before he obeyed his
uncle's orders.
     Only when the door shut did Khameir stand up again and let his anger rise to his face.
He crossed the ten feet between him and Vaiya and met her face to face. But she had
begun to sulk, and while he had never seen her sulk in all the years he'd known her, he
knew she would not be intimidated in her current state, not in the least.
     "Do not ever act that way in front of the children again," he said in a very quiet voice.
"You frighten them."
     "Yeah, I'm such a bitch, aren't I?" The self-pity in her voice was pathetic. "Big bad
Mommy...she doesn't love us like Uncle Kham does."
     "Stop it," he spat. "They're your children. But what do you expect when you act like you
just did?"
     "For someone to understand?" The fire sparked, turning her normally serene blue-green
eyes into jade reflections of her mother's. "For someone to say, 'hey, Vaiya, you might be
right, we're not paying enough attention to what's going on. Maybe we should stop sitting
with our thumbs up our asses and get things moving?'"
      "And what are we doing wrong?" he asked, a bit more calmly. "I just went to discuss
with Wyntrina--" He stopped when Vaiya distinctly cringed. "She's had visions about you."
     "Great." Flat, muttered.
     "I wanted to know what they were."
     "I'll bet you did."
     Then Khameir made what was possibly the worst mistake of his life. "You're jealous!"
he said, his mouth turning upward into what could only have been a smile of pure delight,
that after all these years the shoe had finally made its way over to the other foot. But
before he even knew he had spoken the words, he realized that he'd done something utterly
horrible.
     Her eyes rounded on him, turning frosty, then burning with green hate. She took one
step forward, swung back her arm, and soundly smacked him right across the face.
     "Go to hell," she snarled, turned, and walked away.
     He let her go, and then listened for the door to slam shut behind her. When it did, he let
his shoulders relax. "Great," he muttered to himself, sounding exactly like her. "Almost
ninety years old, and I still have the common sense of a wampa."

     "Maybe she should get out," Leia murmured a few hours later as she took a look at the
bright red handprint across Khameir's face. She had stopped by to visit the children, and
when she realized that Vaiya was nowhere in sight, she decided to engage Khameir in a
mild conversation. What she got, for all her diplomatic skills, was a condensed version of
the fight that had taken place just a few hours ago.  "There's going to be a reception
tonight, a welcoming for the Nagai whom we just recovered. We're sending them off to
colonize Iridonia like they had originally planned, but we wanted to send them off in style,
after all they've been through."
     "Do you really think it makes any real difference to them?" Khameir muttered, gingerly
touching the handprint on his cheek.
     "No, but it's a nice gesture. Hey, we're diplomats, you'll have to excuse a few
pleasantries and frivolities. But Vaiya might enjoy getting out a bit, being among people."
     Khameir sighed. "If she'll agree. I doubt it."
     "Then maybe you need to get out and leave her alone."
     Khameir grunted, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Sorry, Madame Jedi."
     "No, you're right." She pressed her fingers to her lips, thinking hard. "I'm sure Han
would love to have the kids for the night. He hates these parties anyway. Then maybe the
two of you could work it out."
     He shrugged. "I think the children would like that. But I doubt that Vaiya will speak to
me."
     "Do you want to speak to her?" Leia asked pointedly.
     He sighed. "More than anything. But lately nothing I say reaches her. Perhaps you're
right, Jedi Organa Solo--"
     "Leia," she corrected.
     "Leia. See if you can get her to agree. I doubt that she'll try and hit you."
     Leia smirked. "Well, she is her mother's daughter, you know."

     "You go in."
     "No, you go."
     Valeris and Laurel stood outside their mother's door. The nice lady with the brown
hair--Aunt Leia?--and Uncle Kham were talking. They couldn't understand what they were
staying, but they knew it was about Mommy.
     Laurel put her hands on her hips. "You go," she said again. "Mommy listens to you."
     Valeris stared at the huge door. He was just tall enough to activate the latch and make it
slide open. He considered attempting it, but the sounds of the adults had suddenly stopped,
and when adults went quiet it usually meant they were listening for the children.
     "Why don't I keep watch and you go in?" he suggested.
     "Because Mommy's mad at me," Laurel said, her eyes huge and brownish, like a puppy
dog.
     "Mommy's mad at Uncle Kham," Valeris corrected.
     "No, she yelled at me first. I'm why Mommy's mad at Uncle Kham." Laurel's voice
trembled. "You go in. Mommy still likes you."
     Suddenly, the door slid open without warning, and Mommy was there, huge like one of
the towers outside. She bent down, putting her arms out for the children. Laurel practically
rammed her in her eagerness, and Valeris, with his usual calm, accepted the embrace.
     "I'm sorry, Mommy!" Laurel cried before Mommy could say one word. But Mommy
didn't say anything...she just held the two of them.
     Valeris noticed that his mother's eyes were tightly shut, as if she were trying not to cry.
"What's wrong, Mommy?" he asked softly, gently brushing the honey colored tendrils away
from her eyes with his small, clumsy fingers.
     She opened her eyes, and pulled both children together so she could see them. She
stared down at them, long and hard, her eyes still brimming with teardrops. "I just wanted
to tell you both that I love you very much. No matter how much Mommy yells, I still love
you. Okay?"
     They nodded in unison. "Okay, Mommy."
     "Okay. Now go to your rooms and play. All right?"
     "Okay!" Laurel, the harsh image of her enraged mother completely washed from her
three and a half year-old memory, bounded off toward her room. Valeris stayed for a
moment more, staring up at his mother.
     "Go on, sweetie," Mommy encouraged.
     "You gonna be okay, Mommy?" he asked, his voice small.
     "Fine, Val, I promise."
     "Okay. I love you Mommy." And he turned and followed his sister.
     "I love you," she whispered to the empty hallway. Then she went back into her room
and shut the door.

     Ben was starting to feel queazy. It had begun a few weeks ago, just brief flashes on and
off, when the Nagai had been brought here from Endor. But now it was definite, and it had
begun the day they'd told him they were going to send the band on their merry little way.
     Den Siva was certainly a character, but before long Ben realized that all Nagai talked
like that. It was so odd, to find such delicateness among such fierceness, to realize that
those slender bodies--bony by many standards--were hard and toned for combat.
     Just as he was making his way down to their quarters to wish them a fond farewell
before all the dramatics begun, he caught sight of a familiar head of red hair.
     "Mom?"
     Mara pressed her finger to her lips, and then pointed with her thumb toward a closed
door. "Your father is in talking with Siva," she said. "Vaiya isn't here, is she?"
     "No, I haven't seen her or Khameir at all." Ben frowned. "Why? What's up?"
     "Vaiya doesn't know we're here," Mara said, her voice low as if even from the Old
Imperial Palace Vaiya would hear it. "If she does see us, I want it to be because she ran
into us by accident, not because I tried to stick my nose in her problems. But that doesn't
mean I'm looking forward to her finding out that we're here." She grimaced, her nose
wrinkling. "She'd just think we don't trust her, and the last time that happened...well, you
know."
     Ben chuckled. "Yeah, you found me. Can't have that happening again, can we?" He
cleared his throat. "So what are you going to do until she discovers you?"
     "Hide." Mara grinned.
     "That won't work for too long. She's bound to sense you eventually."
     "Hmmm...well, we'll see." Just then the doors opened and Luke came out.
     "Boy, I don't know whether to think he's completely changed or totally different." He
shook his head, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Poor guy...he's been through a lot."
     "Going to introduce me?" Mara asked.
     "Yeah...hey Ben."'
     "Hi Dad." Ben grinned conspiratorially. "Mom was just telling me that you're on another
secret mission. One of yours and Mom's specialties."
     "Yes, hiding from our daughter," Mara supplied.
     "Ah," Luke said. "Dangerous stuff indeed. Have you seen her at all, Ben?"
     At the very mention of seeing her, the queasiness in Ben's stomach doubled. Maybe
there was something wrong..."No, not yet, but now that you mention it I think I'm going to
stop in."
     "Might be a good idea." Mara's face twisted a bit. "I spoke to Leia just a little while ago.
Vaiya and Khameir had some sort of stupid fight, I don't know over what but I'm sure it
was stupid. Vaiya's kind of locked herself in her room. Leia tried to talk to her about
coming to the reception tonight, but Vaiya didn't seem to receptive."
     "I don't think she even came to the door," Luke put in.
     "Oh, she did," Mara corrected, "long enough to tell her aunt to go away."
     "Sounds like someone else I know when she's cranky."
     Mara chuckled. "Yeah, blame my side of the family. Typical."
     Ben shook his head. "You know, it can't have been too healthy for her, being cooped up
on Durran all these last years with just you guys and Khameir. Doesn't she have any
friends?"
     "You mean like Derrin and Drianna?" Luke offered. "Drianna and Vaiya were pretty
tight for a while."
     "They were?" Mara raised an eyebrow. "If you count Vaiya being in love with Drianna's
husband--"
     "He wasn't her husband then," Luke reminded her.
     "Well, it was hardly a friendship. Actually, come to think of it...the only friend she
really had outside of family was Iyala."
     At the mention of the name, all three fell silent.
     "I think I'd better go see her now," Ben said, and promptly turned and left.

     Vaiya was feeling sorry for herself and she knew it. Sitting on her bed and sulking like
a spoiled child. She was no better than when she was a mere sixteen years old, enraged at
her parents for keeping the secrets of their pasts from her. They had only been afraid that
she wouldn't understand. She had confirmed their fears. She hadn't understood. So she'd
ran to a friend for help, only to be betrayed.
     Cal Saphringer...that was a name she had not considered for a long, long time. Eleven
years had come and gone since they had faced him. But even more years had passed since
she had thought of him as a friend, going under an alias--Jaid Saphringer. He had come to
Yavin IV claiming to be searching for his "father," who he said was Cal Saphringer--his
deception of them had been complete. Only Mara had suspected that this charming boy
who had won her daughter's friendship held a secret, and when she had exposed it, Vaiya
had reacted childishly and fled the planet, first going to Coruscant and then to Durran....
     Where she had met Larin. Funny how it all came back to him.
     She felt an uncomfortable twang of rage. If Larin had not gone and got himself killed,
quite possibly all of this would never have happened. Of course, Coruscant might not still
be here, they might all be dead. But it might have turned out differently, he might have
been able to see his children born. He would have loved them so much.
     *I do love them.*
     She raised her head slightly. The voice was like a throaty whisper, and for a moment
she wondered if she had imagined it because there was a sudden humm of machinery,
where the purifiers were coming on to clear the air of the room.
     He would have been a good father. She wondered if he would have had a favorite
among the twins. No, that would be unlike him...he would have loved them both equally,
would  have watched out for them and protected them with his life.
     *I am watching them.*
     She was sure she heard it that time, and she slid off the bed, looking around wildly.
"Larin?" she whispered. All she needed now was to be imagining things like this--
     Just then, the door-chimes sounded. She jumped and turned in time to see Ben enter the
room.
     "Hey," he said gently.
     "Hey," she replied, realizing that her voice was still thick with tears. Then, slowly, she
crossed the distance between them and gave him a hug.
     "How are you?" he asked, stroking her hair.
     "Fine," she lied.
     He laughed. "Okay."
     She shut her eyes. The urge to confess her previous wallow in self-pity was nearly
overwhelming. "What brings you around here? Other than the Nagai."
     "Oh, I just had a feeling I should check on you." He pulled away and grinned down at
her.
"Khameir looked pretty miserable when he answered the door. Did you two have a fight?"
     She could only nod. "I'm such a bitch," she muttered. "I don't know how he stands
me." She took a step back, swinging her arms out as she prepared to begin her rant. "And
the children. I was horrible to them. I can't believe that I lost my temper like that. I have to
be the worst mother...I don't know why they don't hate me."
     "Because you're their mother and they love you?" Ben suggested.