Can I have your attention, please?

It is an honour to present to you, dear readers, the winner of the Official Fan Fiction Challenge 2007!

And here comes the envelope. Thank you, dear assistent lady. May I say you look smashing in that dress? What? After the ceremony? I'd love to...

Ahem, sorry about that.

Now, on with the ceremony. Can I have a drumroll, please?

*drumroll starts*

Thank you.

The winner of the Fan Fiction Challenge 2007 is...

Wait, anyone's got a letter opener on them? Thank you.

The winner is... this is exciting... let me see...

What? That's impossible!

Is this correct?

Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have not one, but two winners amongst us! Those winners are our beloved Senator Soph-ia and the lovely River!

*applause*

Coming home. . .

He ran until he hit the invisible wall that would let him go no further.

Luke looked at the smoldering scene before him. He realized that everything he had been so familiar with, everything he had known so intimately now looked completely foreign. He was viewing his homestead through different eyes; like a hostage released from a dark dungeon. He tried to focus on the changed images of a world he thought he knew. It was painful and brilliant all at once.

Luke felt every imaginable emotion take hold of him. It was the emotion he didn’t expect that caught him off guard. It swept over him like a cool wind and surprised him like a violent desert storm: it was peace.

Peace. How could anyone feel peace at a time like this?

The murder of Luke’s beloved Aunt Beru and his never-quite-good-enough Uncle Owen changed his life in a stunning flash. And yet, somehow he knew the change had little to do with Owen and Beru. Yes, they were the precipitants. But it was their time. He knew this. He felt it. Although their murders were horrific and inexcusable, Luke knew they were at peace after a long life of toil and hard labor. It was just hard to accept that HE himself could feel. . .peace.

Peace.

How else could one describe it? He did not mourn for his adopted family. He felt no obligation to stay, no ties to anyone or any place. But what Luke was feeling was more than lack of guilt or lack of ties. No – peace and freedom are two very different things.

Peace.

Looking back, Luke had always been restless growing up on the farm. It wasn’t where he belonged. And although Beru was loving and Owen was both watchful and dutiful, he knew they weren’t his. No – he had always felt alone.

And on this desert world of Tatooine, he was not only alone, but also out of place. He wondered at his oddities – his seemingly unique ability to see and feel things in a way that was very different from others. He felt guilt over his restlessness and shame at his lack of contentment. He despaired at his unrelenting desire to become something more. And yet he felt deeply for his family and for the universe at large. Compassion and empathy coursed through his veins with no outlet but the broken moisture evaporators and the occasional droid. He was being crushed by his own apathy. He knew he was not the dutiful son and farm-boy that he should be – and yet. . .

Peace.

Luke began to realize with a painful certainty that these murders would’ve never happened if he’d been there. He could’ve stopped them. He didn’t know exactly how, but he knew he could’ve saved his family. And even though he did feel both guilt and regret, he also realized that these senseless deaths had succeeded in pointing him in another direction. . .

Peace.

Somehow, Luke did not find himself swearing revenge for this horrific event. Oh – he knew how to be angry and how to feel hate. He had been angry for a long time: angry at the futility of farming the desert, angry at the loss of his real parents, angry at the limits set by his surrogate family and angry at his lot in life. But, like many others who had grown up in the desert wastelands, he learned early on that anger served no purpose. It didn’t change things. Only individual beings and the choices they made could change things. . .

Peace.

No, Luke did not swear revenge. Instead, the compassion that was part of his very nature moved him to action. His new clarity told him that there were others – many others – to be saved. In this knowledge, he found a way to escape the planet and to escape the apathy. He could not save Owen & Beru – but he could save others. And he knew exactly how he would save them.

Jedi. The word pounded in his head and beat through his heart. Jedi. Possessing unimaginable skills: courage, power, knowledge, control, strength. Jedi. Near mythical beings from a now golden age. Jedi. Gone from the universe, exterminated long ago. Jedi. No – there is another. Jedi. No – there is ANOTHER. Jedi. You are Jedi. Jedi. YOU are Jedi. Jedi. Your destiny, Luke, is to bring the return of the Jedi. . .

Peace.

Now, as he watched the effigies that had been his only family, Luke recognized the façade for what it was. And as it evaporated in the light of the harsh desert suns, so did his self-doubt. He knew with utter certainty who he was and what he had to do – as if a veil had fallen from his eyes. The universe – and his place in it – were suddenly blindingly clear.

Peace.

Luke Skywalker, orphaned farm-boy from Tatooine, had purpose. He was a Jedi. And this knowledge – this sudden and completely unquestionable certainty – gave him a peace he had never experienced before. The peace of purpose; of knowing one’s place in the universe. And the universe cried out for his presence like a dying mother clutching for her newborn. He was ready, now, to accept that long-awaited embrace.

Peace.

Luke knew that by putting on the mantle of the Jedi, he would be fulfilling a destiny he couldn’t even begin to understand – but one that he could never deny. Yet even as the acceptance of his new identity began to sink in, Luke felt familiar doubts and fears trying to claw through the peace. Doubt, fear and anger seemed desperate to break through this strong and threatening tranquility. It became clear that being a Jedi would not be easy – there would be tasks ahead far more difficult than burying his family – battles he could not even begin to imagine. Still – he knew he had to go – he had to try.

I want to come with you to Alderaan. There’s nothing here for me now. I want to learn the ways of the Force an become a Jedi like my father. . .

And for this brief and fateful moment, Luke Skywalker wrapped himself in the peace he felt – the real cloak of any true Jedi – and walked away with his new mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

And – unlike many others – he never looked back.

Well. . .there you have it. My first fanfic ever. I think it's fine -- except for dialogue and scene descriptions and a general plot. Other than that, just fine! Well -- as you can tell, I write more like an "academic" than a storyteller. But this has been a good experience. It makes me appreciate even more those of you who have the special talent of being able to tell a good tale. Thanks to Luuke and to River for the encouragement and the suggestions.

Your Senator,
Soph-ia

PS -- that's not a plea for mercy, btw -- just an explanation of the facts! ;-)

wounds do not always heal...

Smoke was everywhere. The stifled echoing of boots just barely reached the ears. As if in a dream, Olana’s consciousness slowly returned. The limp forms of younglings, padawans, knights and masters alike littered the floor. But along with vision, hearing, and the rest of the senses, came the unforgettable feeling of flaming hot, then cold pain. The pain was everywhere. It did not matter where, it felt like everywhere.

Anakin. She had known there was something not right. No matter how many fellow Jedi had tried to tell her there was nothing to worry about. No matter how many citizens sang his praises during the war, there had always seemed to her to be something odd, something not quite right. Here was the proof. Lying all around her was the work of “The Chosen One”. The so-called savior had come in, Lightsaber brandished, with an entire legion of clones. They had then proceeded to cut down any Jedi they saw. Olana first instinct was to run to the younglings and find a way to get them out. But before she could, they had all run up to the Council’s chambers and she didn’t get there in time. The site of all those children, of all species, all together in death, by someone they were striving to be. No more.

Slowly, Olana Chion opened her eyes. The sound of the clones was getting fainter, but the smoke was building up. If she still wanted to survive, she had to get up despite the pain. Gingerly she rolled over on her side and propped up one elbow. Pain shot up and she started to take notice of her injuries. There were multiple saber wounds that had grazed her on both arms and legs, but still allowed her to walk. The biggest problem was her face and clothes.

No longer neat and clean were her robes. Instead, they were covered in scorch marks from where Anakin’s near misses had come in contact with her long robe. Also, an oozing of blood from where the almost killing bow to her face had been bleeding was drying up. Olana reached up to her tender face. The burn-like patch ran from her hairline down to her jaw. There was no way to get it healed now, and it would most likely leave a scar; a big scar.

Memories that she would rather forget started to flood her thoughts. As she ran down from the Council chamber, she had to fight her way through five? Ten clones? It did not matter. She had to get to Anakin before he did anything more damage. After rounding a few more corners, with each hallway filled with more dead Jedi, she found him. The horrors the reached her sight was maddening. Here was the Chosen one, fighting with his fellow Jedi and mowing them down with no effort at all. She tried to reach out to him, but she got back was hatred, anger, and fear. The dark side. Anakin Skywalker had fallen.

Olana shook her head. Now was not the time to dwell on past events. She had to get out; she had to get off Coruscant. If the clones were attacking Jedi, she could not go to them for help. She first had to find out what was going on. Slowly and carefully getting to her feet, a rush of nausea and dizziness swept over her. ‘Not now,’ She thought, ‘pull yourself together Jedi. Calm down.’ Looking around, she located her lightsaber; however, it had been ruined during the fight. “Great,” Olana said, holding up the pieces to see what could be salvaged. Nothing but the crystals. Taking them out, She put them in one of her pouches, and reached down to take a different one from a jedi laying nearby.

Slowly, and painfully, she started to make her way towards an exit. Wary of any sound she heard, she avoided any blaster fire, and soon found herself near one of the conference rooms. Looking inside, the holographic projection of the warring systems showing those that were in trouble and had jedi and clones stationed there. The projection was working its way through the presentation, but there was no one to hear it. The bodies of those there listening were strewn over the benches; datapads lays over, under, and in pieces. Olana went in and shut off the projector.

Taking one of the exits that was still untouched, Olana unlocked the force lock and came out of the Temple onto a back alley. Look to make sure no one was around, she started down to the one place where she knew she must reach, transport. It was then that she realized that she had no money to barter passage. Not daring to return to the Temple to search for some, Olana decided she would have to find a way to offer labor and knowledge in exchange instead. Wrapping her cloak closer and putting up her hood, Olana began to limp her way along.

She was ignored as she walked, and if anyone started to look, she carefully used the Force to push them to look at something else. Making her way slowly through the streets, it soon became harder and harder to avoid the clones on her own. They were just too numerous; and to think, that not too long ago the republic was saying that there were too few.

Slipping into a cantina, Olana stuck to the shadows of the walls. In the near darkness and strange lighting, she was close to invisible. However, a gathering was being formed around the holonet projector. Nearly everyone there was watching intently. Olana carefully made her was over to listen. Using some fore senses, she was able to make out the picture and sound of the Senate and Chancellor as he made a speech.

“…and the Jedi Rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.”

Rebellion? We were the ones who got attacked! What was wrong with the chancellor?

“the Republic will be reorganized into The First Galactic Empire, for a safe, and secure society.”

Olana could not believe what she was hearing. There, right in front of her, was the senate cheering…for an EMPIRE. Other thoughts raced through her head: How many other Jedi had survived. What would happen to them now? What would happen to her? It was safe to assume she was no longer safe. No one would help her is they knew she was a Jedi. If she showed any sign of being a Jedi, she would most likely be attacked.

There he was. Making his way towards the training room when she finally caught up with him. It was worse than she had originally thought. All around his wake were young Jedi, lying in some sort of sick line as they had fallen to his weapon.

“Anakin! What have you done?”

He stopped. Anakin turned around to face her. It was then that she saw just how bad it was. There was just one thing on his face. No remorse, only anger. “All the Jedi must be destroyed,” he shouted as he moved to her, “The Sith will rule the Galaxy…”

“Anakin, wait,” she screamed back, all the while backing up, her weapon in hand, but not activated, “Stop and think for a moment. These were children…”

“You’re not.”

Olana soon had no choice but to fight for her life. Anakin had always been better that her; bigger, stronger, no so more than ever. Her skills had gone down hill since she had been spending most of her time in the archives, but the desperation of the moment brought back into sharp focus all of her endless training, all her hard work in hopes that Obi-wan would choose her as his apprentice.

Backing away from the crowd gathered at the projector, Olana left the cantina and started down the streets again, moving as fast as her wounds would allow. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a family of four as they tried to make there way towards a large transport headed away from Coruscant. In the hustle to get on board, one of the children, a young girl, managed to get separated from her mother’s hand. Her mother shouted, but the father kept on going oblivious to the loss of the child. Olana moved in. Before anybody could reach her, Olana swept the child up in her arms and began to head for the transport. The girl started to hit her and kick her, which made the already tender burns and cuts begin to bleed. Finally, on the verge of collapse for the pain, Olana moved off to the side and set the child down.

“How old are you?”, Olana asked.

“I want my momma!” the little girl screamed, as she continued to beat on Olana.

Taking a hold of the girls hands, Olana slowly moved them away from her body and in front of the both of them. Unable to hit Olana the girl slowly stopped struggling. Looking up for the first time, she stared Olana straight in the face. Tears were coming down her face in a steady stream. Looking at each other for a moment, Olana had flashes of the younglings all about the floor. They were not much older than this one. Alone, and frightened, as someone them admired betrayed their long standing trust.

“What happened to your face?” the little girl asked. This statement brought Olana back to the present. Looking her right in the eyes, Olana said,

“I am going to take you back to your family. It will be easier if I carry you, however, I need to know if you are able to stay very still while I move. Can you do that?”

The girl nodded with a very serious face and held out her hands. Gingerly, Olana picked her up and set her on her right hip. The little girl squeezed he legs to keep from falling, but did it so that Olana would not scream in protest. Together, they made it onto the transport before it left. They soon began to wander around in search of the girl’s parents. When they reached a large holding area, Olana stopped, and took a good look around. The little one found them before long, tapped Olana and pointed them out. When the mother saw the two of them coming over, she jumped up and shouted, “Telesa!” in joy. Olana carefully handed Telesa over to her mother and nearly collapsed as the father and brother came over to embrace Telesa as well.

Reaching over, the brother managed to catch her before she slammed into the ground. “Hold up there! You alright? Here, have a seat. My name is Corban Stukes.”

“Many thanks Corban for your assistance,” Olana said quietly, “however, I believe your sister is in want of a hug from you.” Turning around, Corban grabbed his sister and proceeded to tickle her mercilessly. The squeal that came out of Telesa was such a happy noise that chuckles form all over the bay could be heard. No one protested to the noise.

While the two siblings were playing, their mother came over and sat next to Olana.

“I just wanted to thank you for finding her. They would not let us off to go and get her, and—and I thought I would not get to see her again.”

“You’re welcome.” Olana replied. Just then, a sharp pain from her left side surprised her. With a gasp, she reached down to find out what it was. When she did so, her hood fell away from her face, revealing the burn from Anakin’s saber.

She ducked under a broad swing from Anakin and dodged the stab that came nearly at the same time.

“running will not stop me,” Anakin taunted, he knew she was tiring out, “all that time reading has made you lazy.”

“all that time reading has made me able to recognize something is wrong when I see it,” she gasped back, the last stab had not missed entirely, “and I see something very wrong with you. They put you on the council! Why have you turned? Why?”

Anakin did not answer. He only pressed harder. Finally, he had her saber wrist and they were in a deadlock. He slowly pushed the two crackling blades closer to her face and moved his own in with it. When they were face to face, he smiled.

“I have become the most powerful Jedi ever.”

“you are no longer a jedi Anakin,” Olana gasped, “Obi-wan always had his doubts, and so did I.”

Anakin stopped smiling. Olana watched in horror as his eyes narrowed and he began to shake. For a moment, it looked like the chosen one’s eyes had turned the red and yellow of the sith, but she never got a chance to know for sure before he jerked his saber so that he cut hers in half and burned her face.

When Olana opened her eyes, Telesa’s mother was kneeling over her, daubing burn gel on her face. When she tried to sit up, the woman gently held her down.

“you got yourself into a bit of trouble young lady. What have you been doing?”

Giving in, Olana asked, “where is this transport headed anyway?”

“Alderaan,” came the answer from the father, “and from the looks of things, you are going to need a lot of medical care. We added you to the list of people who will need immediate care when we land, however, we could not find out your name, so, I decided to wait and ask you.”

Alderaan. Olana remembered hearing about that system. If she remembered correctly, they were a planet very opposed to the war; so opposed perhaps, that it might even be a safe haven for her. Obi-wan had often talked with the senators of Alderaan and Naboo. If she could get a hold of the senator with out drawing attention, she might have a chance to fully understand what was going on. But how?

“tell them, my name is Lana; and that I am a human.”

With those finally words, Olana, felt an even stronger bout of pain. It took almost all of her strength in the force at the time to keep from crying out. But all the force training in pain suppression could not keep the look of pain from her face.

When they finally arrived at Alderaan, Olana was not doing very well, the family she was with did not know what was wrong, but it was obvious that she needed immediate care. She was one of the first off the transport and into the medical facility.


“The droids are of no use,” said one medic as she gave Olana a look-over, “she is too far gone. If she is to survive, we must do it ourselves.” Reaching over, the medic began to strip away the bloody and burned clothes. Once she had the robe off, her hands fell on the belt and hook of Olana’s newly acquired lightsaber. She stopped. Staring at the weapon, the medic did not know what to do. All the reports she had heard from Coursant had said that the Jedi were not to be trusted anymore. But she had always known kindness and felt that they were trustworthy. The only person she could think of to give a final answer was—

“The Senator…” the patient had spoken for her. This dying Jedi had read her mind. Reaching down for her commlink, the medic made a direct call to the head of the medical team. “We need Senator Organa down here right now. This needs his immediate attention.

Olana was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open. Apparently Anakin had caused more damage that she had realized. The pain in her side was constant now, and getting worse. According to the medic nearby, the internal bleeding was too far along for anything to be done. The senator was on his way. The news of a surviving jedi had only gone to him and the medic. She was safe, at least, from any harm she had not already encountered. When Bail entered the room, she could tell he was surprised and troubled. He came over and sat down beside her. Slowly, he reached out and took her hand.


“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

“Do you know of any others?” Olana whispered, “Obi-wan perhaps? Master Windu? Yoda?”


“I can tell you that Kenobi and Yoda are both safe and in hiding. I can find a place for you as well-“

“Do not bother,” Olana cut him off, “I won’t last that long. My time has come to be joined with the force.”


Reluctantly, Bail nodded. He remained silent until Olana lost conciousness. It wasn’t long after until her hand went limp and she stopped breathing. When the medic jumped up, Bail turned to her and said, “No. She is gone. Let her be.”

On the other side of the building, the little girl Telesa wondered wy she felt so sad all of a sudden…

Star Wars: Old Wounds

By: Aurin Starkiller

(Set hundreds of years after the Battle of Endor...)

Part 1...

Seated in one of the many dark corners of the cantina, the target had appeared as if he had no idea that he was being watched. Or at least, Nom assumed it was a he. Having been on many assignments across the galaxy, Nom had long ago stopped trying to guess the exact genders of the many species he encountered. The target was wearing a dark cloak, which made it all the more difficult to discern anything from his appearance.

He had already hunted down one target on this miserable desert planet, a rebel spy who had thought himself to be safe. But the Emperor had eyes everywhere, and noone could betray him unnoticed. After completing that assignment, he had been ordered to tail another target, but this time was given very little information about who or what was to be the object of his concentration.

Nom hated it when Imperial Command was so secretive about an assignment. The last time they had been anywhere near this secretive about a mission it had ended in an extensive firefight and the deaths of five civilians. Nom was tailing that target through a series of marketplaces when it unexpectedly turned and started firing in his direction. What Command had failed to tell him was that his target's species had a well-developed sense of hearing, enough to hear him draw his weapon from thirty yards away in a noisy marketplace.

At least this new target looked human. It was impossible to tell exactly with the hood of his cloak drawn around his face. After paying his bill, the cloaked man made his way out into the busy streets, his face still concealed from view.

"The target is on the move," Nom whispered into his earpiece comlink. "Requesting permission to pursue."

"Permission granted, Agent Olesa," his base commander replied, "don't lose the target, but keep your distance. Target is classified as armed and extremely dangerous. Seven Sith knights are on their way, let them handle the situation."

"Excuse me sir, did you say that seven Sith are coming for this guy?" Nom asked in disbelief. Very few foes gained the personal attention of just one Sith, but seven coming for merely one individual was hard to fathom. Nom had only heard of a few persons that the Emperor regarded as that dangerous.

"Affirmative, Agent Olesa. Stay out of their way. They will take care of the situation, do not engage under any circumstances."

"Understood, Olesa out." They really didn't have to order him to stay away from the target, anyone who gained the personal attention of seven Sith wasn't someone he wanted to fight anyway.

The desert suns beat down upon Nom, and he briefly wondered how the target could bear wearing his black robes in this heat. The cloaked man moved through the crowds quickly and gracefully, passing by people without their notice. It was almost as if they couldn't see him, even though he undeniably stood out from the crowd he passed through.

Suddenly, Nom heard the ignition of a lightsaber from behind him. A moment later a man in black battle dress charged past him, a red lightsaber burning in his hand. The crowd ran from the Sith knight in a frenzied panic as he rushed towards the target. Other knights soon appeared from the fleeing crowd, the rooftops, and adjacent alleyways. The target finally stopped in the middle of the street, surrounded by the Sith.

Nom Olesa was from a race of humans who had developed slight empathic abilities. Not much, but enough to notice strong emotion. Such abilities had proved useful in previous assignments, but not as much in the current one. Whoever the target was, he extremely disciplined and hid his emotions well. However, the aura of hate and fear surrounding the collective Sith was nearly overwhelming. Feared throughout the galaxy that they ruled, the Sith knights and lords were infamous for their control over the Dark Side of the Force, as well as their prowess with the lightsaber.

The streets were silent except for the hum of the Sith lightsabers. The cloaked man stood still, as if he wasn’t even aware of the foes that encircled him. Slowly, he drew back the hood of his cloak, and let it fall to the ground. His face was surprisingly young, but his eyes looked old, full of pain and memories. Underneath his cloak he wore simple black robes, and a belt with lightsabers attached.

The Sith looked at one another, waiting with obvious anticipation for someone to make the first move. Then, suddenly, the target struck. He spun around, pulling one of the human knights towards him with a powerful explosion of the Force. The Sith landed on a black lightsaber blade, which had appeared in his enemy’s hand as he was flying towards him. The entire feat took only mere seconds, and the rest of the Sith charged forward as their companion’s body fell to the ground.

As the remaining Sith battled the mysterious warrior, small metal spheres fell from his belt. A strange red smoke began to emanate from these spheres, and it became increasingly difficult to observe the conflict. Before the combatants were completely obscured by the smoke, Nom noticed a red lightsaber in the target’s other hand, and that only four Sith remained standing. Nom pulled out his macrobinoculars and tried several settings in an attempt to penetrate the smoke, but to no avail.

"Agent Olesa, this is Imperial Command," his earpiece blared. "Your orders have changed. As soon as you have a clear shot, take the target out."

"Affirmative, Olesa out." Nom drew his customized sniper pistol and waited for a chance to use it.

The sounds of battle were furious, and grew in intensity as it wore on. Then, suddenly, it stopped. The street was eerily silent, and even the aura of hate that the Sith seemed to emit while fighting was gone. Soon the wind picked up and blew away the smoke, revealing the bodies of seven Sith knights lying in the street. The target was nowhere to be seen.

Nom approached the dead bodies cautiously, feeling nauseous and fearful at what he had and hadn't witnessed. The bodies lay there scarred, maimed, and mutilated by their previous battle. Three of them, including the human who had fallen first, were impaled through the torso. Another was separated from its head, while two others were cut cleanly in half. All of the lightsabers were missing.

The last one, an Abyssin, was covered in deep gashes and cuts, and was impaled through the head. This one must have put up quite a fight. Abyssin were famous for their regenerative abilities, and even though it was quite dead some of its wounds were still regenerating.


Part 2...

Ever since the incident, Nom had been shuffled from one intelligence inquiry to the other. They kept on asking him the same questions: What happened? What could he tell them about the target? What did he see?

To tell the truth, Nom wasn’t exactly sure what he had witnessed. He thought he had seen one man go against seven Sith knights and walk away without a scratch. However, his mind seemed to deny the possibility of what his eyes had seen. How could one man take down seven of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy? The feats of the Sith were legendary, how could one man hope to destroy seven? And yet he had seen it happen.

From the many debriefings and reviews, Nom was able to gleam one name, Starkiller. That had been the man, or thing, he had witnessed in those desert streets. He had heard the name before, but only in dark corners and on the edge of a whisper. Nom hadn’t thought much of it before, assuming it was merely idle gossip and myth. Now he was having second thoughts.

He headed over to the computer terminal in his quarters, and typed in a search for the name Starkiller. The terminal brought up an Official Imperial File, with a name and picture to match.

( Starkiller, Aurin. A former Sith knight trained since the age of ten, when he was captured from a fleeing rebel family. Disappeared five years ago after slaughtering a temple full of adolescent Sith with the aid of an associate who was executed after an attempt to flee the scene. Reappeared early this year leading a small group of rebels making terrorist attacks across the galaxy. Responsible for the murder of many prominent Imperial officials. Bounty posted by Imperial Command at ten million credits. Instant two-rank promotion granted for any Imperial official responsible for the capture or death of the individual. )

Nom whistled softly, and tried to find more data on him, but was unable to without a higher security clearance. At least now he understood the panic and urgency he detected in the intelligence officers that questioned him.

“Read anything interesting?” asked a voice from behind him. Nom spun around, surprised to see the very man he had been reading about seated at his table. Instinctively, he reached for his blaster, but was dismayed to find it missing. After looking back up, he saw it on the table next to the intruder.

“How did you get in here?” asked Nom.

“I’ve been here for five hours,” Starkiller said, “I was wondering when they’d get done with you.”

“It’s not me you should be worrying about,” Nom stated, his hand reaching for the alarm button hidden beneath his desk.

“Please don’t,” said Starkiller, reading his movements. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”

“I’d hate to die,” replied Nom. It was then that Nom noticed long burn marks on Starkiller’s robes, gashes in the cloth, and the slight smell of burnt flesh.

“So you were hurt,” he chuckled, “and here was I thinking that you had walked away completely untouched. Do you really think you should be sneaking into Imperial compounds in your state?”

“I can't think of a better place to hide than where it is least expected. I’m going to have to ask you to take a seat now.”

“Why not just kill me and be done with it?” asked Nom, moving to a chair on the other side of the table. He had thought before of leaping for the injured man, hoping to overpower him, but he recalled tales of how Sith could kill a man without even touching him and decided against it.

“Don’t think that I haven’t considered it,” he said, looking towards the window. “What do you know of your past, Mr. Olesa?”

“I was a serial killer on Coruscant,” he said, repeating it as it was told to him, “I was captured by Imperial Intelligence, put on trial, and my mind wiped and reprogrammed for military service.”

“And who told you this?”

“The surgeons who performed the operation, of course,” Nom replied. “Why do you care?”

Starkiller ignored the question, and pressed on with one of his own. “Did you ever think to doubt what you have been told?”

“Occasionally, but never when I was rational. The Empire performs the procedure on many dangerous criminals, and I was able to find several old news reports that validated my violent past. What’s the meaning of all this?”

“The meaning is that you’ve been lied to since that operation,” said Starkiller, “you were not some insane serial killer, but a high-ranking rebel captured and reprogrammed by the Empire to hunt down those you once fought alongside.”

“You’re full of it,” said Nom, incensed by the attempt of this man to poison him with his words.

“Believe what you will,” Starkiller replied, ignoring his anger. “I’m only here because an old friend of yours asked me to come.”

“Really, you’d have me think that Lady Skywalker herself would have me return to her ‘noble’ cause.” Nom spit on the floor in disgust, “you’ll have to make up something a little more convincing if you’re trying to convert me to your suicidal vendetta.”

Starkiller said nothing, but instead slid a small metal case across the table. Nom caught it, and opened it to see a small red pill inside. “What is this,” he asked.

“Something to jar your memory,” Starkiller answered. “Take it or not, I don’t really care anymore.” He slid a small transmitter across the table next, and stood up slowly. “The effects should wear off in about an hour. If you’ve decided to change your mind about my ‘suicidal vendetta’, then give me a call.”

Nom looked at the pill and the transmitter, then back up at Starkiller. However, he had disappeared, and Nom was alone at the table. He tried to make sense of all that had happened. He didn’t want to take the pill, afraid that it was a trick of Starkiller’s twisted mind; or, even more frightening, that he might be telling the truth. However, he was still intensely curious to know why such a man would believe such a thing, and risk coming to the middle of an Imperial base in such an injured state.

He looked at the transmitter, dispelled his fear, and swallowed the pill.


Part 3...

Explosions rocked the compound as the planetary bombardment finally came to a close. The rebel troops holed up in the compound knew far too well what that meant; stormtroopers would soon follow. They barricaded the hallways as quickly and effectively as they could, even using some of the debris from the bombardment to strengthen the barricades.

In the command center, General Nom Olesa stared at the holo-screen in full awareness of the grim nature of their situation. Hundreds of armored stormtroopers poured into the crater left by the Star Destroyer’s planetary bombardment. At their front was a dark-robed Sith, leading the attack.

They had been fighting for as long as he could remember, scurrying just out of reach of the Emperor’s grasp. Olesa had been born into a galaxy at war, embroiled in the hundred-year long conflict known as the Century War. The Sith Empire had finally been able to topple the remnant of the free star systems, bringing the entire galaxy under their domain. For the last twenty years since the war ended, those left who still opposed the Emperor Valerian’s will fought in a small but persistent rebellion. The majority of the galaxy was at peace, forced into submission by the Empire.

General Olesa couldn’t be distracted by the events and memories of the past; he had to evacuate the base. The hundred or so soldiers that survived the initial attack could not hope to stand against such a large force, even with the advantage of their defenses. The dilemma that was presented before him, though, was just how he would do it. The only tunnel they could use for the escape was small and narrow; all of the soldiers would not be able to escape in time.

Olesa would have to leave a group of men behind to delay the Imperials for as long as possible, and to initiate the self-destruct sequence in the base. He would have to make the choice that haunts all combat leaders; he would have to choose who would live and who would die.

He had fought beside these men for three years now. If necessary, he would die with them as well. But it was he alone that could unlock the doors to the hangar hidden on the other side of the half-mile tunnel. The first traps had been sprung by the stormtroopers, now was the time to decide.

“Lieutenant Davenport,” he said, turning to the man on his left, “send squads three and five to the central corridor. Have squad two seal the all of the other corridors. Let’s force them into a bottleneck.”

“That should buy us some time,” Olesa thought. He ordered the rest of the men to the tunnel, and after they went through, turned to the lieutenant.

“Start a five minute self-destruct sequence as soon as squad five falls,” he said, handing the lieutenant the other security key he would need for the job. The young lieutenant grabbed the key, and looked into his eyes.

“He knows,” thought Olesa, “he knows that I’m sending him to his death. But he’ll go anyway, willingly, like a good soldier.” The general saluted the young man, and turned to enter the tunnel. He took one last look at the lieutenant, already preparing the fatal sequence. He then shut and locked the blast door, and shot the controls.

The tunnel was deep underground, and passed under the great lava flows on the surface. The planet was in a constant state of volcanic activity, making it a dangerous and unlikely place for a Rebel base; which is precisely why they chose to build one here. The secret hangar was on the other side of a vast lake of the molten rock, a last resort and their only hope of escape.

“It would be worth the loss of such a fine base,” thought Olesa, “to rid the Empire of so many of its servants, especially that Sith dog that led them.”

As he traveled through the tunnel, he thought back on the long years he had spent in his fight against the Empire. The Emperor’s Sith Lords had been a constant and formidable threat, causing devastating losses to the Rebels wherever they could find them. It would be nice to get some payback.

The legendary Jedi, the ancient enemies of the Sith, were all but extinct. Only Lady Skywalker, the current leader of the Rebels, remained. And she herself was only trained in the basics of the Jedi arts, no match for a Sith Lord.

Just as Nom Olesa reached the end of the tunnel, he heard a deafening explosion. He hurried through the last of the security doors, glad to see that his remaining men had already loaded and prepared the ships. He boarded one of the transports, ordering all ships to take off immediately. The small evacuation fleet soared towards the surface, bursting through the protective shield and hologram that disguised the surface of the facility.

After a few minutes, they were swarmed by a mass of Imperial fighters. The Rebel fighters escorting the escape craft engaged them in an attempt to allow the transports a chance at freedom. One Imperial fighter, however, stayed focused on Nom’s transport, strafing it with blaster fire. After weakening the shields, it swung behind the ship and delivered a torpedo to its engines.

“Damage report,” demanded Olesa, entering the bridge.

“We’ve lost hyperdrive engines,” reported one of the pilots. “Thrusters 2 and 3 failing.”

Without hyperdrive, it would be nearly impossible to escape the Imperial fleet above. Without those thrusters, it would be a miracle if they broke through the atmosphere.

“Take us back,” General Olesa said grimly.

“Excuse me sir?” asked the bridge commander.

“I said take us back.”


The damaged ship made it just outside the hidden tunnel’s entrance before its engines failed completely. It crash-landed softly on the black sand just below. The rebels, Olesa included, rushed out of the damaged ship and began making their way back down into the hangar on foot. As the remainder of his troops went ahead of him, Olesa and the bridge commander of the fallen transport stopped to contemplate their situation.

Fortunately, his transport was the only one to fall before the rebels broke through the atmosphere. He only hoped that his brave friends above would have such good luck getting past the Imperial fleet. He, however, would have to resign himself and his men to fate. There could be no hope for escape now. The Imperials would be landing more troops shortly, and they would have to use the defenses of the hangar to hold them off for as long as possible.

“At least we hurt them,” he thought, looking across the lake at the smoldering ruins of his former base. “At least we took a lot of them down with us.”

Olesa was about to turn away when he heard a startled exclamation from the former bridge commander.

“General look, something’s moving out on the lake!”

Olesa looked to where his associate was pointing, and after a few moments saw a dark shadow moving across the liquid rock. As it came closer he saw a man in dark robes, seemingly walking across the lava. His eyes were as black as the lightsaber that burned in his left hand.

“It can’t be,” Olesa whispered in shock, recognizing the Sith from the holo-display in his former base, “it can’t be!”

The bridge commander sprung into action, ordering everyone to get underground as soon as possible. When he turned back around he saw the Sith flying through the air, landing on him and impaling him with a black lightsaber blade. Before his body hit the ground, the Sith had struck down the two guards beside him and turned to face the General.

Olesa drew his blaster firing two shots at the dark warrior. Both shots were on target, but both were blocked by the lightsaber. The Sith swept the dark blade in a low arc, cutting him off above the knees. He then stabbed the burning blade into his shoulder and left him to pursue the fleeing rebels.

The last thing that General Nom Olesa saw before falling into unconsciousness was the blackened face of the Sith warrior.


Part 4...

Nom awoke from his frightful dream, the flood of memories washing him with despair. He looked down at his legs, relieved to see them still there. It was then that he noticed a thin, almost invisible, scar circling each thigh.

“So the dream was true,” Nom thought, “and the Empire gave me new legs when they stole my soul.”

He had in his hand the transmitter that Starkiller had given him. He had activated it some time ago, not even realizing it until now. The dream remained in the forefront of his mind: the fallen bodies of his comrades, the burning remains of the transport, and the planet of fire.

“Finished with your trip down memory lane?” asked Starkiller from behind him. Nom seethed in anger at his voice, remembering that it was Starkiller who had struck down the remnant of his men. It was Starkiller who took his legs, who gave him over to the Empire to become a monster. With a rage and quickness that surprised the both of them, Nom spun around from his chair and grabbed him by the neck of his robe pushing him against the wall.

“It was you,” he said, glaring into Starkiller’s eyes in his rage. “It was you who killed my men, turned me into a monster.”

“It was the Emperor who turned us both into monsters,” he said, with equal intensity. “It was the Emperor who turned us against the ones we loved, who made us what we were.”

Nom let go of the dark warrior and slumped back into his chair, exhausted. “What do I do now?”

“You have three options,” said Starkiller, leaning on the table. “You can continue in your service to the Empire, you could join with those who still remain from your old rebellion, or you could run and hide from those whom you once called both friend and foe.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make the Emperor pay for what he’s done to me, for what he’s turned me into,” Starkiller replied.

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to take vengeance,” he said.

“I never claimed to be one.”

“But you train with Lady Skywalker…” he said, confused at his response.

“I teach her how to fight, she teaches me how to be human again,” he said, looking out the window at the lights of Mos Eisley. “Have you made your decision?”

“I will fight,” Nom stated, joining Starkiller at the window, “but not for vengeance. I will fight to atone for my crimes, in the memory of those whom I have failed in the past.”

“So be it.”

So This is How Padmé Dies

Padmé awoke, disoriented.

She wasn't sure where she was, nor how she got there.

She only knew Anakin.

For all the darkness and confusion in her mind, she could still clearly remember the first time she had laid eyes on the feisty boy who would become her husband. A slave with no possible hope for escape from a lifetime of manual labor, yet overflowing with such vibrancy that one couldn't help but like him.

His first words to her were "Are you an angel?"

She remembered feeling flattered, and even a little embarrassed. She thought it ironic that the Queen of a world, chosen and beloved by her millions, would be so flustered by the attentions of a slave boy, but of course he hadn't known at that moment what her station in life was. Completely unaware of all her political power and wealth, he had simply looked into her fourteen-year-old soul and said what he saw.

Padmé remembered telling Sabé about it. How he had proven himself brave and selfless, and every bit the pilot he claimed to be. His defining moment, however, had been back in the junk shop, when he had told her what she was. How could she possibly be any less than an angel, when such a power as Anakin Skywalker had said it to be so?

Sabé had laughed and said it was a childish infatuation with Padmé's regal beauty, but she knew better. She had felt his gaze penetrating her mind and her heart, and she knew he had spoken only the simple truth.

After that, everything she did, every risk she took to protect her people, had been in some small measure for Anakin. Years later, Queen Jamilia would tell her that her single most important act as Queen had been kneeling in humility before Boss Nass of the Gungans, and not the repulsion of the Trade Federation's embargo as the history vids would claim.

But Padmé knew that in her heart she had been saying, Do you see me now, Anakin? I am more than a girl, I am a Queen, yet I am still brave and humble and virtuous and good. I rule an entire world, but I am still your angel.

After they had saved Naboo, he had left to become a Jedi. Padmé went and studied up on the Jedi Order, ostensibly to better understand the soft-spoken man who had sacrificed himself and the strange Zabrak warrior who had slain him. But when she had learned how the Jedi forbid attachment and felt her heart sink within her, she could no longer lie to herself about her motives.

And so she had chosen to marry herself to her work, to her duty, just as Anakin did. So she could prove herself to be every bit the angel he was.

Padmé heard a voice. "I think she'll be awake soon." She recognized it as belonging to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Hadn't Obi-Wan gone back to Coruscant with Anakin? But then she remembered, she had seen him again, when he was assigned to protect her from the threat of assassination. And when he reported for duty, he had brought his apprentice. Padmé wanted to laugh out loud when she remembered how she hadn't even recognized Anakin at first, being so focused on the political issues at hand.

But when she opened her mouth to laugh, only a small groan came out and she nearly blacked out again.

She thought of Anakin, and it was as if he were there. She felt as if Anakin was standing next to her, and helping to keep her out of the abyss. And she remembered again the first time Anakin had been there for her, watching her sleep through electronic security monitors. How she felt suddenly overcome with modesty, knowing he could see her. I am an angel, she had chanted to herself as she fell asleep. I am an angel, I am an angel. And then her angel had swept in and stopped the next assassination attempt with his brilliant blue lightsaber.

His lightsaber was the same color as his eyes.

Suddenly she was looking into his eyes again, for the first time. Imagining that the feelings she had were being reflected back at her. She tried to cover her indisgression by saying, "Don't try to grow up too fast." Don't try to grow up too fast? What kind of thing was that to say to the boy she had only just realized was now a man?

And as she silently berated herself, Anakin said, "I am grown up; you said it yourself," and then the emotion in his eyes was not a reflection of her own, but a deep wellspring of passion that she had long since buried in herself.

She remembered breaking off the contact then, telling him that it made her uncomfortable.

Why did I do that? She had to adhere to the principle of unattachment to safeguard her virtue. For Anakin.

Even if that meant from Anakin.

Still, that moment had been the beginning of the breakdown of all her barriers. All the time she suddenly had to spend together with him, coupled with the sudden lack of duties to attend to, gradually allowed her to open her mind and her heart to the possibility of a relationship. She had forsworn all relationships for him, but had known for so long that he was unreachable. Even with him right there, confessing and demonstrating his love for her, she still had difficulty grasping the idea that they might be together.

Besides, she had already decided in her head that a public life of service did not couple well with a family life.

She made some of these excuses to Anakin and told him she didn't want to live a lie. And deep in her heart, she cried out for him to ease her concerns and mastermind a solution.

Instead, he agreed with her words. "It would destroy us."

Was it true then? There was no way they could be together. Padmé felt crushed. She smiled and went through the motions but inside she felt dead.

"She may be dying."

Padmé tried to answer the strange electronic voice that had said that, but her own voice was not responding. She wanted to tell them that she wasn't dying. Then she had a disturbing thought. What if I am dying? Her memories rushed at her again, back to the first time she thought she was about to die.

When she and Anakin had faced the Separatist droid army and lost. When she had been so sure that she would not see another sunset, that she had admitted to Anakin that she loved him.

Somehow, both of them had miraculously survived the battle of Geonosis, and had immediately fled to Naboo to be married. Padmé decided that it was probably not a good comparison to the way she was feeling now.

At least she was starting to pierce her own mental fog. She was at least pretty sure that a few years had passed since her wedding, even though their time together had been severely limited by his duties as a commander of clone armies, and her own duties as Naboo's Senator.

But nobody knew that. Padmé suddenly found herself struggling to remember why she'd been pretending to be single. Why had she been living a lie that would destroy her? Oh yes, she remembered. The Jedi. Her secret husband was actually a Jedi.

Padmé knew it was impossible for her husband to be anything else. It was part of his very being to be a hero, to always help those who needed him.

Somewhere in her mind, a little voice told her that he was only trying to help her.

Why did I need helping? She was fairly certain she hadn't received any more death threats since the beginning of the war. Suddenly, a sharp pain in her abdomen reminded her - the baby. Padmé was about to have a baby, and Anakin had been sure she was going to die.

The little voice told her that he was right. She was dying. Then Padmé realized that Anakin had been right about everything. I'm about to die, thought Padmé, and I can't forestall it by confessing my love. This time, I die for real.

She vaguely heard some alarms going off nearby, and she thought she could feel a medical droid's probing touch, but she ignored them. Anakin knew I would die and he tried to save me. He killed the younglings and abandoned the Jedi in the hopes that it would somehow keep me alive. She remembered crying out in shock at his actions. "I don't even know you anymore!"

Yes you do, said the voice. You know he has to be a hero. He has to save people. Why, Padmé, why wouldn't you let him save you?

"Are you an angel?"

No, she thought. I'm not.

Then the physical sensations became too much for her, and her eyes fluttered open to see Anakin's dearest friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, standing over her. But hadn't Obi-Wan tried to stop Anakin too?

I'm not an angel, she tried to say, but her "I" turned into a scream of pain.

"Don't give up, Padmé," urged Obi-Wan.

But I lied, she thought, I lived a lie. I was no angel, just a selfish girl--

Another sharp contraction seized her, reminding her again of the new life she and Anakin had created together.

"Is it - it's a girl. Anakin thinks it's a girl," she managed to say.

Obi-Wan said something about staying with them.

"If it's a girl--" The pressure on her abdomen became unbearable for a moment, and she cried out in pain. If it's a girl she won't be an angel either, because her mother was not an angel. "If it's a girl, name her Leia." The Nubian goddess of pain.

Then the droid handed her baby to Obi-Wan, who told her, "You have a boy."

Not a girl. He might have a chance then, to be more than his mother. "Luke." Nubian for angel. “Oh, Luke.”

Suddenly the birth pressure swept over her again, and Padmé felt herself getting weaker as her body devoted all its energy to pushing. She barely had strength to cry out in pain. A moment later, the droid appeared, holding another baby.

Obi-Wan looked over at the baby, and then reported, “It’s a girl.”

“Leia,” answered Padmé, and suddenly the room was spinning too rapidly to say anything else. She needed Anakin to catch her again. "Anakin..."

Somewhere she heard Obi-Wan's voice, saying "Anakin isn't here..."

Where are you, my angel? "Anakin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she screamed. "Anakin please, I love you!" But the declaration could not save her life again. Anakin wasn't here now, because Obi-Wan had tried to stop him. Why did you stop him, she sobbed. He was trying to save me. He was my angel.

It took her a few moments to calm herself down, but she had to do it. She had to tell Obi-Wan he was wrong about Anakin.

Each breath felt like a struggle.

"Obi-Wan?” she whispered. “There’s good in him. I know.” She felt Anakin’s touch on her mind once again, but it was distant, fleeting, as if he were searching for her. “I know there’s..." She gasped for another breath of air. “…still…” That breath was her last one.

The last thought to register in her brain was I am not an angel...

And then she was one.

Apprentice No More

Obi-wan Kenobi stood in the council chambers of the Jedi Temple. He breathed deeply, letting the Force flow through him and guide his thoughts. As was usually the case, he found himself thinking about his apprentice.

Former apprentice, Obi-wan corrected himself. The boy was a Jedi Knight now, part of the grand tradition of protectors. He fondly remembered his first time meeting the boy, the tireless debates about whether he should be trained, and finally the designation of Obi-wan as Skywalker’s teacher. Train him in the ways of the Force, they had told him. Teach him to be wary of the dark side.

Obi-wan was often concerned about his pupil. Now that he was on his own, out fighting in the war, the Jedi Master could often sense the tendrils of the dark side grasping at the inexperienced Knight. Sometimes from outside himself, but all too often from within. War tends to bring out the worst in everyone, he thought. We should have been able to end it before it ever started.

A familiar presence entered the room, and Obi-wan turned to see Master Yoda shuffling in, with his ever-present walking stick in hand.

“Master Yoda! I didn’t realize you were here! I mean, I knew to expect you soon, but I thought – well, I suppose I thought you might never return. Silly, I know. Many of the Jedi would swear that you are incapable of dying.”

“Strong am I in the Force, but not that strong,” answered Yoda. “Interrupting your meditations, am I?”

“Not at all, Master,” came the reply. “I was just – thinking.”

“Thinking of Skywalker, are you?” the old Jedi asked.

Obi-wan chuckled. “Did the Force tell you that, or am I so transparent?”

Yoda sighed. “Concerned for your Padawan you are. Spoken to him recently, have you?”

“Actually I haven’t,” answered Obi-wan. “I thought it best that I remain aloof for a time, let him make his own mistakes now and rely only on the Force. If he is truly to be a Jedi Knight – “

“Correct you are, Obi-wan,” interrupted Yoda. “A Jedi trusts the Force and does not depend on his former teachers to rescue him. However --” Yoda paused. He looked at the floor and pondered a moment, then looked at Obi-wan again. “Uncertain, he is. Spoken with young Skywalker I have. He asked troubling questions. Fully trust us, he does not, and guidance he needs. Speak to him, you should.”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow slightly, then mused, “I think I might know the nature of his questions. Did… she… come up?”

“Not by name, no,” the Master answered. “But heavy on his thoughts she was.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth! Told him the truth I did. As a Jedi always should.”

Obi-wan shuffled his feet slightly. “You think I should be more forthcoming with him. Tell him all that I know about his… situation.”

“Skywalker flounders, Master Kenobi. Your Padawan he is no longer, but his teacher you are still. Your guidance he needs. His trust, go earn once again.”

Obi-wan bent at the waist, then straightened up again. “As you wish, Master Yoda. For the Jedi Order.”

Yoda watched as Obi-wan left the room. “For the Galaxy, Master Kenobi,” he murmured softly.

╠☺╣ ╠☺╣ ╠☺╣

The war continued, building to a terrible climax. This time, Obi-wan found himself seeking Yoda’s guidance, rather than Yoda coming to him. He told the venerable Master how his pupil had made a choice that Obi-wan himself never could have made.

Master Yoda took the news calmly, as if he’d been expecting this from Skywalker. Obi-wan envied his serene faith in the will of the Force. “The dark side, he must face. If he is strong enough, he will prevail.”

“Master Yoda, listen. She found him, just before he—before he went. She asked him straight up to leave that place.” Obi-wan took a breath. “And he told her in no uncertain terms what his choice was.”

“Then she knows the truth now? What he is?” The Master had no problems saying what needed to be said.

Obi-wan nodded, struggling to retain his composure. “He told her himself far more effectively than I could have done. There were tears, but in the end – well, he went on to the destiny he chose for himself, and she… I hope she’s strong enough.”

Yoda looked up at him. “Strong enough! Royalty, she was! A Senator for her planet she was! A superior warrior, without the benefit of Jedi training! None stronger will you find, I think.”

“But when word gets out – and it will! – that Darth Vader is her – well, she won’t have it easy. You know what he did for the Emperor. If there was ever a reason to be ashamed of one’s family –“

“Shortsighted are you, Master Kenobi! More family she has now than Vader alone. Good reason to be proud of her family, I think!”

“I suppose it’s possible. If our little rebellion here survives the night, it might be possible. Tell me, Master Yoda, can you see the future any clearer now than before?” There was no insult or sarcasm in Obi-wan’s tone, only a pleading. A hope for the impossible to happen.

Yoda chuckled. “The future, I see very clearly! Turn around, Obi-wan!”

Obi-wan turned to see what Yoda was pointing at. There was a new presence joining them, strong in the Force. He stared deep into the boy’s eyes. Anakin’s eyes.

“Luke…”

Yoda reached out with his senses. “Yes, she knows the future is safe in his hands. The future of the Jedi, young Luke is.”

Obi-wan was still staring into those blue eyes. Anakin’s eyes. “I’d forgotten how blue your eyes were, Anakin,” he murmured softly. Then he drew the boy into his arms and hugged him. “Welcome back.”

Then Obi-wan turned around and made himself visible to Luke Skywalker, and he could sense Yoda and Anakin shimmering in to opacity as well. The three of them smiled at the Jedi Knight, and then his sister drew him back among the living heroes of the Rebellion, where they would face a new and brighter future together.

Exultation of the Sith

Title: Exultation of the Sith
Author: Arwen Skywalker
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. If I did, Callista would have have died in Children of the Jedi.
Summary: A look at Sidious after Vader leaves for the Temple.
Author's note: This is a bit different than what I usually write....read & review, but don't be too mean. :)
__________________________________________________________________

They were back. After thousands of years of waiting, of perfecting their skills. Years filled with lies, deceit, manipulation, greed, but above all, patience, the Sith had returned to power. And now the extermination of the Jedi had begun.

Darth Sidious sat in his crimson office and smiled. Not a kindly old man's smile, not a agreeable senator's smile, but a harsh, cruel smile full of dark joy and malice. The bodies of the worthless scum that had thought to wrest his power from him littered the entryway to his office. The fools had not stood a chance against him.

He had planned this for years upon years, weaving a web so intricate, so fine, but at the same time strong enough to ensnare an entire galaxy. A few paltry Jedi could not stop him, he had already won. The Senate was caught irrevocably in his grip, the common people of the Republic perceived him as their hero. The Jedi were viewed with distrust, living as they did in their closed off Temple away from the rest of the galaxy. He had made sure of that. And when he announced to the galaxy that the Jedi had tried to assassinate him, whose word would the galaxy believe? There would be no Jedi to gainsay him.

Now, for the first time in all his stay on Coruscant he uncloaked himself completely, letting down his shields, throwing his darkness over the city-world. Let the Jedi know he lived, even as they were cut down, let them know complete and utter despair as they died. He would hide himself no longer. He had no need to. His plans were all falling into place.

His new apprentice Darth Vader was approaching the Temple, prepared to execute his first act as Dark Lord of the Sith. And he, Sidious, would be here, reveling in the feel of death in the Force.

Ah, there was the first; Lord Vader was in the Temple. Sidious leaned over and activated a panel on his desk, and clone commanders across the galaxy answered his call.

"Execute Order Sixty-six." Three words, but oh, the power they contained.

"It will be done my Lord." Sidious terminated the transmission.

Sidious cackled as the Force became a roiling sea of pain and anguish, despair, hate, and death. Pain, as Jedi died horrible deaths. Anguish and despair as Jedi realized they had been betrayed, and by the very one on whom all their hopes were hung. Hate from Lord Vader, hate at them for driving him to this, hate at himself for what he was doing. Death, much death, as the entire Jedi Order fell into shadow. Sidious sat drinking it all in; his eyes glassy, his entire being intoxicated with the feel of the power that he held, with the thickness of the Darkness that was now enveloping the entire galaxy, as the Jedi and their light was eradicated for good.

He was the law, he was the senate, he was in control. Never again would he fawn before the pathetic scum that called themselves "Jedi". He had destroyed them, and victory had never felt so sweet, or so invigorating. The Darkness grew in strength as Jedi died terrible deaths, their despair and horror feeding his power.

He was the Darkness, he controlled it, and it obeyed him. It was his tool, his servant. He was the most powerful being alive, any who would dare defy him would be dealt with swiftly. His web had caught the galaxy, and there was no escape. Unlimited power he had at his fingertips, in his fingertips. The Sith had risen again, and there would be no defeat. There would be no one left to stop them this time. Sidious cackled again, and the Darkness and shadow echoed his triumphal shout. "Unlimited Poooooooooowwwwwwweeeeeeeeeerrrrrr!!"

A Jedi Lost

A man approached, his slow footsteps announcing his coming.

“Go away,” I said, without opening my eyes. “I’m becoming one with the Force.”

Did I sound mad? Good.

“My presence will not impede on the process, I assure you,” the stranger said with a deep, smooth voice.

“Have you been sent here to persuade me? Because you’ll be disappointed.”

He chuckled. “Far from it, Master Jedi. I was sent to kill you.”

“I don’t think I’ll need your help, thank you very much.” I hoped my words had the sound of nonchalance I did not feel.

“So it seems,” he replied dryly. “Mind if I join you?”

Polite as though his words were, he did not wait for an answer and sat down next to me on the ruin’s edge. Reluctantly I opened my eyes, blinking at the gloomy daylight, and beheld his face.

He’s handsome, I thought.

Why did that surprise me? What did I expect? Some hideous monster; a raving lunatic with a lump? The Dark Side is not a bodily infliction, after all. Yet for all my studies, I was not prepared to behold a real, living Sith Lord.

He was about the same age as me; a tall, muscular man, nearing the end of his prime. His skin was the colour of hot chocolate, a beautiful dark brown; features strong, yet gentle and open. His bald head was remarkably expressive and friendly; his broad smile charming and friendly. The stranger’s brown eyes, however, seemed oddly cold. Was there a burden behind those eyes, hidden behind a smile and good manners?

His black attire, a shape-hugging tunic partly covered by a long robe and hood, was remarkably similar to a Jedi’s. Strong hands lay open on his lap; he tried to make me feel comfortable, which strangely seemed to work. He smiled at me and met my eyes. I had to look away.

His words were like crystals; sparkling yet hard.

“I can’t say you’re making it hard on me, man. But as much as I fear disobeying my Master’s orders, I do not intend to kill you. You intrigue me.” His gaze followed mine across the valley and he sighed. “When you left it must’ve been a great loss for the Jedi Order.”

“Not that great a loss, I imagine,” I replied, shrugging. “I’ve now joined the ranks of the legendary Lost Jedi. A dubious honour. ‘Jac Eebra, previously a venerable Jedi Master, has sadly left the Order in search of his awaiting destiny,’ that’s what a Council representative said on Holonet. It was just a tiny announcement between the celebrity gossips. Sad, really. But as for how or why, I’m not telling you.”

“So be it.” Instead of expanding on the subject, he remained quiet. Possibly he thought I would start explaining if the silence grew, but I was not particularly inclined to. Instead I kept my gaze on the endless ruins in the Valley of the Dark Lords around us and thought about how this man could entrance me so. Must be the seduction of the Dark Side, which was terribly strong here on Korriban.

Yet the attraction I felt could not be denied; real or Force-fuelled, there was a soft warmth inside me when he, at last, turned towards me again and whispered conspiratorially in my ear,
“What is it that you want, boy? Really want? Truth? Love?”

“Do not mistake me for some naïve padawan,” I replied, trying to sound offended. Why did he call me ‘boy’? “Save your critique on the Jedi for the ignorant and wronged. I have no trouble with the Order or its principles.”

“If so, why did you leave?”

Curse his insight. “Personal differences.”

“Ah. Of course.” He smiled; a sly little grin. “Differences in opinions on how best to be a Jedi, I’m sure. I know you used to be something of a philosopher, pondering the Force and its ways. My guess would be that while studying and philosophizing, you realized you were not doing what you were supposed to be doing. You realized you were raised without questioning your standards, and you started to do so.”

I shook my head, smiling. “You are asking for my reasons, and I already told you I’m not telling.”

“Very well,” he said. “But whatever the reason, I want you to consider this: now that you no longer are a part of the Jedi Order, are you willing to look into other ways to use the Force?”

“You’re asking me how I feel about joining the Sith?” I asked, incredulous. I could not believe he was asking me, just like that. Somehow I had always imagined that Sith Lords tricked people into joining them. Apparently I was wrong.

“Actually, I did not say that. But I was getting there.”

I looked at him. He looked so very attractive.

“I –,” I started, and looked away. “I’m afraid I don’t feel much either way.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

I sighed. Get this over with, then. “Several years ago, a padawan turned to the Dark Side. I killed him, but only after he had killed his master.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“After the incident, I searched my feelings, but found none. At first, I thought I had found peace in their fates, but gradually, I realized it wasn’t quite like that. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when I did have any emotions. No mourning, no anger, no jealousy – no love.” I looked up at him. “The Order raises us to have no attachments, but also no emotions. There was an emptiness inside me that was destroying me.”

“That’s when you decided to leave the Order.”

“Actually, it took me more than three standard years to figure it out, but by then I had made up my mind and not even the Council could talk me out of it.”

“Every child eventually leaves his parents’ house to make a home for himself,” the dark stranger said, and somehow his words were exactly what I needed to hear. Understanding. “To be Sith is to be living a full life, unbound by the silly chains those around us wish to force onto us. How can such a life be any lower than a life of servitude to an ancient Order without roots in reality?” He looked at me and almost whispered. “Not unlike the Jedi, the Sith live by a credo: Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

I looked at him, and the Sith, with new eyes. A full life, without other people telling me what to do – and all it took was passion. The thought was quite hopeful.

He went on. “I seem to find myself in a similar position as you were in. You see, I am my Master’s apprentice only in name; he has taught me everything. Therefore he has sent me to kill you, so I can become a true Sith Lord. However, he and I both know it does not work that way. My true task, if I am to become a Master, is to kill him.” A rueful smile. “Through victory, my chains are broken.”

I was speechless. Did this man just admit his desire to kill a man?

“My Master, Darth Hssiss, has sent two bounty hunters after us; surely you must’ve felt their presence by now. They’re probably instructed to kill us as soon as we leave this spot.”

I did sense two individuals, just out of reach of any ordinary senses, lurking in the shadows. What intrigued me more, though, was the name of the stranger’s Master; this Darth Hssiss. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“So what does this have to do with me,” I asked casually. “I mean, are you asking me to distract those bounty hunters or anything?”

I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You’d be my apprentice.”

I grinned. “I don’t suppose I can think about it for a couple of days?”

The dream, though each time subtly different, always followed a certain pattern. From the shadows of a dead empire, a great black one-eyed beast emerged, filled with hatred and anger. The beast was a dark side dragon, commonly known as hssiss, and it was strong with the Dark Side of the Force. Every time I slept, I dreamed of facing off with the beast, but every time, neither of us won or lost.

An eternal, nocturnal struggle.



For several long years had I asked Jedi Masters for an explanation of this dream, and the answers were always the same: Train yourself to let go of those you fear to lose; be prepared to face the darkness in yourself. Gradually, I realized I would not find answers amongst those who looked to the past rather than to the present or the future for wisdom.

I had committed the dream to my own ruthless logic, and dissected it into smaller, understandable parts. I found out that the fear I felt upon waking was 63% fear of dying, 3% fear for those around me, 5% fear of the Dark Side, and 29% fear of the unknown. Approximately.

The fear of dying was, in essence, a denial of the very teachings of the Jedi – there is no death, only the Force. However, it would not go away. The fear of the unknown, on the other hand, could be faced. After years of considering, it was a logical step to confront this fear by leaving the Jedi.

Dissecting the dream had felt good; the dark realm of night would not stand against the brightness of cold, hard logic. But yet, I felt something was just beyond my grasp; as if I was trying to catch smoke with my bare hands…

Days after leaving the Order, I decided to go to Korriban. Hssiss were common on several planets, but for some reason Korriban felt right. The fact that it was home to the ruins of the ancient Sith Empire seemed to enhance that feeling – a monument to a grand rebellion against the arrogant Jedi Order.



Fooling two simpleminded bounty hunters was easy even for a padawan, but my new companion showed me how to do it like a Sith; he used something akin to a mind trick to let one fear the dark. On Korriban, where the sun was about to set and shadows grew longer, there were dark places everywhere. It was mildly amusing to hear his terrified screams in the distance.

In an attempt to gain the Sith’s trust, I used the Force to increase the other bounty hunter’s blood pressure until he fainted. My newly acquired Master, who went by the name of Darth Nyx, seemed pleased with my achievement. Unbeknownst to him, I made sure the victim’s blood pressure would drop soon after we left.

This Lord Hssiss, I pondered, had to have something to do with the dreams I’d been having for the last five years or so. It was entirely possible that he was even the Sith Lord that had lured Li, the padawan, to the Dark Side, but those thoughts I kept to myself. For now it was best to let Nyx think that I was doing this for him and me alone.



Getting to the place where Darth Hssiss waited for the return of either his apprentice or the bounty hunters required a long and hazardous walk through and over many ruins of the old Sith dynasty. It was a slow journey and Darth Nyx and I spoke only when we did not need to concentrate much.

He told me about the Force and how the Dark Side had given him so much, but at a terrible prize. For every scrap of knowledge, his Master had made him suffer. “He always said it was better to learn something first hand, to realize the power of what you’re doing. Many nights I spent in agony, building the power I now possess.” He shook his head, his eyes cast down as he seemed to remember far too much of it. “It was necessary, yet now abundant.”

Before he could tell me more, Nyx pointed towards the second largest building in sight and said, “That’s the place.” It was a largely intact structure, built into the rocky mountain wall, with two massive statues in front of it; one an apparent Sith warrior, the other damaged beyond recognition. Their shadows fell over the entrance of the enormous building; a ridiculously large gate with damaged decorations of frightening beasts and muscular warriors. The decorations on the structure had largely been eroded away by the elements, but the building itself was on of the few to have weathered the centuries. Inside we went.

We walked in silence through a maze of dark corridors and empty halls, the sound of our echoed footsteps moving along with us, until at last we reached a grand hall. It was dimly illuminated by the last rays of the sun through slits in the high ceiling. There, in between two enormous pillars, stood a simple chair and some basic equipment making up a makeshift camp. In front of the chair stood a thin, black clad figure. Nyx and I approached him cautiously.

Lord Hssiss was a pale old man with piercing red eyes – no, eye; his face had a scar where once his left eye had been. The scar was almost as white as his skin, indicating that it was an old injury. Perhaps the padawan had done some damage before his turning, I thought with grim satisfaction.

It took me several moments to notice that, in fact, most of the Sith Lord’s left arm was missing, too. He used the Force to grip his lightsaber hilt and simultaneously mimic the shape of an arm inside the sleeve of his robe.

“You foolish little sand sloth,” the old dragon hissed. “How dare you return with your target unharmed?”

His words, enhanced by a strong hatred conveyed through the Force, were like poison running through my veins. This was a Sith like the Jedi had spoken of; a twisted mind of death and destruction. The meaning of my dreams became clear instantly; this was the opponent I must face.

“I return with a prize beyond your comprehension, my Master,” Nyx spoke, emphasizing the last words with dripping sarcasm. “The future of the Sith have I brought.”

Apart from smiling the tiniest of smiles, Lord Hssiss did not move. “The future looks rather boring, I must say. Please tell me you’re not considering this bantha fodder worthy of the Sith legacy.”

“I am,” Nyx said, and for some reason I felt proud. I hadn’t felt like that for years. It was a good feeling, unrestricted by Jedi rules. How could I have believed those silly rules for so long? Ridiculous chains, they were just holding me back.

“Doom on us all, then.” The old Sith Lord moved before the words had crossed his lips. Despite his old and stiff appearance, he moved swiftly and efficiently. I barely had time to switch on my lightsaber before his first strike came.

This was going to be more difficult than I had hoped for.



The Hssiss made quick movements, trying to force an opening in my defences. His fangs and claws came from all sides and all dimension – the Force itself seemed against me as all my usual grace fell to the dusty floor. Teeth gritted, I fought the war I had waged for countless nights. This time, though, a radiant darkness fought at my side, whispering.

“Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”



The fight was long; Lord Hssiss was very skilled with a lightsaber. His technique was excellent, and his constant attacks through the Force were very unsettling. We fought at equal levels, and rather than letting the Force dictate my moves, I learned how to direct it myself.

Eventually, Nyx and I gained the upper hand. My new Master whispered instructions, making me strong with the Dark Side. Thoughts about defeating the entire Sith Order were pushed aside, so as to better achieve the power required to defeat the evil Sith Lord. With every blow, I gained strength; with every bit of hatred, I gained ground on the old man.

I’m winning.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a blinding pain shot through my legs. I found myself on the dusty floors with my eyes closed, screaming in agony. My legs were gone!

“You have fought well, my apprentice,” Darth Nyx spoke gently.

Fought well? I bloody lost my legs!

“Thank you, Master,” Lord Hssiss replied. Master? Through blinding pain and overwhelming confusion, I struggled to look up and saw the two Sith Lords kissing each other’s lips. What twisted pair is this?

Nyx looked down at me, the sympathy in his eyes replaced by cold hatred. “It seems you do feel emotions, boy. And your wish of becoming one with the Force will be granted.” He faced his apprentice once more, kissed him, and spoke, “His death will be only the beginning. The Sith will become so powerful that no-one will ever be able to stop us.” His gaze swung back to me, hatred and anger giving his eyes a crazed fire. “Your precious Jedi, along with the corrupted Republic, will fall!”

“Wait,” I screamed, “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me!”

Nyx grinned coldly. “Hardly a promise. But I won’t kill you, boy. That honour falls to my apprentice – my real apprentice.”

A savagely grinning Lord Hssiss stepped forward, raising his scarlet lightsaber high above his head.



The great beast loomed over me, bloodlust in his red eye. His claw came down, blinding me with pain and anguish. “Deception is the way of the Sith,” the shadow whispered. “Peace is a lie. Through victory, his chains are broken. The Force will free you both.”

The Force seemed to wrap my conscience into itself; a safe haven, pain barely detectable. It whispered wordlessly to me, urging to let go; to become one with that great current of all living things. I smiled; a thing I was not even sure was physical. Emotions had come to me, after all. In their own twisted way, the Sith had done the will of the Force and had set me free.

One last tug of the Force and everything else fell away. I was free.