ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW

Luke had not intended to sleep long, but he was weary from the time on Dathomir and a short rest would refresh him more than simple meditation. Having sent Dyon off with the two teenagers to gather supplies, he felt, for the moment, that it was safe for him to grab a nap.

He had not told Ben, but he had opted not to remove Mara’s things from this cabin that they had shared. It was Mara Jade’s ship; it somehow seemed right that her personal effects stay for the duration of this unsought but vital journey that her husband and her son were embarking upon.

So it was that her clothes still hung in the closet, and from time to time Luke would go in there to dress, hesitate, then reach and touch a jacket or tunic or dress she had once worn, remembering when he had last seen it adorning her lithe, graceful body.

He murmured her name in his sleep, and turned over.

In his dream, he opened his eyes and looked out at the stars streaking past. And he felt the press of a warm, living, female body against his back. He did not dare to breathe, did not dare to move, to turn over and take his wife in his arms and kiss her fiercely, whispering what a terrible nightmare that was, love. I dreamed I lost you.

And she would laugh softly and whisper back, You’ve got too lively an imagination, farm boy. Come here and I’ll show you how real I am.

He knew it was a dream, and yet it seemed so real. He could hear a soft sigh, the rustling of the sheets as she nestled closer to him. But something was not quite right. It wasn’t Mara. It couldn’t be. She was dead, killed by Jacen Solo.

I’ll show you how real I am.

“I am real,” the faint whisper came from behind him.

And Luke Skywalker, desperate to believe it, flung himself on his other side, reaching out to take her into his arms—

Nothing.

He blinked, knowing he was awake, even though everything seemed as if he had been awake a few moments earlier, though of course he couldn’t have been.

He realized he was shaking and that tears stood in his eyes. This surprised him. He had not wept for Mara in a very long time, not even when he had been able to see her … ghost?… in the Lake of Apparitions inside the Maw. Why, then, did he feel so raw, as if the wound had been made only a few days ago instead of two years? He was at peace with her passing, he knew it. And yet …

He reached out a hand and smoothed the pillow, cool to his touch, not warm as it would have been had a living woman lain upon it seconds earlier. With a sigh Luke rolled over on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

It was the ship, he decided. And the recent vision he had been granted of his beloved, late wife. He suspected Ben felt it, too. The Jade Shadow was a part of Mara, a part that held them, kept them safe, and took them on their journey to, he hoped, find answers that would help heal the mentally wounded Jedi Knights.

And determine what exactly had happened to Mara’s killer, Jacen Solo.

Too, another female presence was aboard the ship—Vestara Khai, Sith apprentice. And Luke was not so old that he couldn’t see the first hints of a budding romance when it was happening right under his nose. Ben would deny it, of course, but Luke had seen how his son’s gaze followed the young woman, how he found excuses to be in her presence. It concerned him, and he knew it would concern Mara.

It was no wonder he felt her strongly.

But still.

Even the brief, dream-heavy sleep had refreshed him. He had wanted that, wanted to feel more rested and alert, before he talked to High Lord Sarasu Taalon again.

ABOARD THE BLACK WAVE

“Ah, Master Skywalker,” Sarasu Taalon said. He leaned back in his command chair and smiled. It was an elegant, if predatory smile, for Taalon’s pale purple face was ideally proportioned. His features were sharp but strong, epitomizing masculine beauty. The tone of his skin was considered particularly attractive among the Keshiri and humans as well, even, with no unsightly irregular pigmentation. His strong hands, fingers steepled in front of him at the moment, showed calluses from years of using weapons, but had no disfiguring marks such as scars or misshapen fingers, which indicated that from a young age he usually won what sparring he engaged in. He kept his dark purple hair short, a departure from current fashion, but one he found convenient. Taalon’s eyes were large, expressive, and missed nothing as he gazed at the small holographic image of Grand Master Luke Skywalker, the hated enemy with whom he was currently allied.

“Any further word from your friend?”

Luke Skywalker smiled back with what was easily discernible as forced courtesy. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He reports that he is on schedule to join us within ten to twelve days.”

“Pity he cannot work faster to update this … tug?” Taalon did not sneer, not quite.

“You’ll have no reason to regret the delay, I assure you. Lando’s work is excellent. And since you’ve not navigated the Maw, you don’t appreciate quite yet how useful it will be to us.”

Taalon gritted his teeth, both at the delay and the utterly unsubtle jibe. He already had reason to regret having to spend more than five minutes in orbit of the planet turning slowly beneath the vessel. Taalon, like most of the Sith Tribe, burned with ambition and chafed at anything that stood in his way. He had no interest in wasting time orbiting a backwater world. Or back sand world, as a cursory glance at the information on Klatooine had revealed. Brown and yellow and ugly.

“Well, then. Let us hope the vessel proves as useful as you say it will,” he said, pouring sincerity into the Force to mask his irritation. “I am anxious to take the fight to Abeloth.”

“It is my hope that it will not be a fight,” said Luke. “Like I said earlier, the goal is not to destroy her, it’s to try to understand her and reason with her. Make her understand what she is doing, if possible. She’s an alarming being, that much is certain, but I’ll need more time to assess the situation before I’m willing to fight her.”

Taalon deftly covered his annoyance and forced himself to smile in an indulgent manner, stretching his lips thinly across even white teeth. “Of course, but remember, she is damaging our younglings. She must release them.”

“Of course,” Luke said, “but killing a sentient being should always be a last resort. Also, her death might mean our young Jedi and your apprentices would never be released. We have far too little information on her nature to know exactly what is going on.”

“You raise a good point,” Taalon agreed. “Is there anything further?” Taalon intensely disliked Luke Skywalker. He itched to blast the Jedi with Force lightning, to choke him, to cleave him in two with his lightsaber. With a little luck, and the blessings of the dark side, he would have the opportunity to indulge his desire once Abeloth had been forced to cooperate with the Sith. He allowed himself to fantasize briefly about the moment.

“No, nothing more. Will you be visiting the surface?”

“Doubtful,” said Taalon. He did not elaborate.

“Me neither. I’m not very fond of sand. Jade Shadow out.”

“Captain?” It was Leeha Faal, his second in command, a slender female and fellow Keshiri who stood rigidly at attention. Following her commander’s example, she, too, had cut her hair short. Soft bangs, however, fell over her high forehead.

“Yes, what is it?”

“We have been researching Klatooine, and—”

“There cannot possibly be anything remotely interesting in that ball of dirt,” Taalon snapped.

“Well, sir … there is one thing you might want to see. With your permission?” She indicated the computer. He regarded her for a moment. This had better be good, otherwise her impertinence would not be overlooked.

“Go ahead, impress me,” he said.

She didn’t flinch, but her resolution in the Force wavered, just for an instant. Then she leaned over him and tapped in something.

What appeared on the screen was a vision of beauty. It looked like a geyser at the moment of eruption, captured forever in time, each finger of water, each splash, each droplet, frozen so that one could admire its power and grace. Swirling, turning, it was vibrant, creative motion somehow paused, and Taalon’s heart leapt. Like all the Sith Tribe, he put a great value on beauty, whether it be in the lines of a being’s face, the drape of a handmade garment, or the curve of a shikkar handle.

This moved him to his core.

He had to have it.

“It is … exquisite,” breathed Taalon. “Is it a statue?”

Pleased at his response, Leeha smiled. “No, sir. It is a natural formation. It’s a type of glass.”

He turned his head sharply to look at her, but she was serious. Glass … glass more lovely, more dramatic, than any piece he had ever owned. Ever seen constructed for any building in Tahv.

“How is this possible? What is it?”

“It is called the Fountain of the Hutt Ancients. The planet produces deep in its core a substance called wintrium. Back before recorded time—and that’s a long time here, sir, tens of thousands of years—there was some kind of fissure in the planet’s crust. The wintrium erupted. There was a chemical change when it came into contact with the air. Rather like water freezing instantly, except it was transformed into glass rather than ice.”

If it had been a statue, Taalon mused, he would have abducted the artist on the spot and forced him or her to create a piece of equal or superior beauty for Taalon’s private collection. But as it was a natural formation …

“I imagine this Fountain is highly regarded among the Klatooinians?”

“Oh, definitely. It’s a sacred object to them. Time is very important to their mind-set and culture,” Leeha continued, warming to the subject. Clearly, she’d done a lot of research before bringing the Fountain to her captain’s attention. “The wintrium continues to harden through the centuries, becoming stronger instead of more fragile.”

Interesting, thought Taalon. A material that grows stronger over time. Weapons … that grow stronger over time …

He pulled thoughtfully on his neatly trimmed goatee, his eyes never leaving the image of the Fountain as Leeha spoke.

“The Klatooinians, too, believe they grow stronger over time. One of the reasons they agreed to become servants of the Hutts twenty-five thousand years ago was because the Hutts promised to always keep the Fountain safe.”

He shot her a quick glance. “Hutts? As in the name of the Fountain Hutts?”

“Well, yes, although it was originally just called the Fountain of the Ancients.”

“What are Hutts?”

Leeha didn’t miss a beat. She leaned over, not bothering to ask his permission a second time—he liked that, it showed initiative and confidence—and called up another image. This was of a large worm-like creature, with a large head, grinning mouth, and two small arm-like appendages. It was most certainly not beautiful.

“Hutts can live to be a thousand years old, which was why when they descended upon Klatooine they were revered as being connected to the mythological ancients. The Hutts are intelligent, self-serving, and manipulative, and they took advantage of the Klatooinian belief that they were akin to gods. They tricked the Klatooinians into signing over their younglings to be sent to work for the Hutts wherever they saw fit. In dangerous mines, as tradespeople, as soldiers in an army—for whatever the Hutts needed, they used the Klatooinians.”

Ugly they might be, but Taalon felt a new respect for the giant worm things.

“For how long?”

Leeha smiled openly. “Forever.”

“My, my. I think we can learn a thing or two from these Hutts.”

“The Tribe is always learning, always improving itself, in preparation for our eventual control of the galaxy,” Leeha said, very correctly. Smart girl, Leeha. She’d advance far.

He changed the picture back to the Fountain and regarded it for a long moment.

“Are nonnatives permitted to approach it?”

“Oh yes, sir. It’s apparently something of a tourist attraction. There are a few rules, though. Because the Klatooinians look at it as sacred, and frozen in time, they don’t want anyone bringing anything technological within a one-kilometer radius. They would find that terribly offensive.”

“I see. Frankly, I had not intended that any of us land on the planet’s surface while waiting for Master Skywalker’s little friend,” Taalon said. “However, I find I am feeling a need to visit this exquisite, unique natural phenomenon. I think it will do my soul good to gaze upon its beauty with my own eyes.”

Leeha’s smile widened, making her lovely Keshiri features even more attractive.

“Oh yes, sir, I think that would be an excellent idea.”

Taalon grinned.

ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW

There it was again, the strange, but not altogether unpleasant feeling as if he were being watched. Luke turned away from the control panel and glanced around, then closed his eyes and looked with other senses.

No, he was not alone. In a way, he would never be alone, as long as he could touch the Force. All living things created it, and even those who were no longer among the living contributed. Mara would always be there, at least in part. And he would be able to see her always whenever he looked at Ben.

Luke kept his eyes closed and felt the faintest, almost imaginary brush of a feminine touch over his cheek, and sighed audibly.

I miss you, he thought.

I miss you, too. But we will be together.

One day, he agreed. A soft chime from the communications array caused him to open his eyes, and he grinned when he saw who was calling. He tapped the controls and a miniature version of a golden droid appeared. He looked extremely pleased, if droids could look pleased, and See-Threepio definitely managed it.

“Master Luke!” The protocol droid was all but bouncing in his delight. “What an unexpected pleasure. I am so very flattered you were interested in consulting me. I do not get very many messages myself, you know. Usually I am relegated to the task of conveying the identity of the caller when Master Han and Mistress Leia are contacted. This is quite a treat.”

Luke found himself smiling. “Hi, Threepio. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, goodness, we have missed you, too, Master Luke. How may I be of assistance?”

“I need some help, and you’re the droid to provide it,” Luke replied, tapping the controls. “I’m transmitting a conversation. I need you to translate it.”

“Oh! As you know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication.”

“Yes, I know. But not this one.”

“Oh? Are you certain?”

“Very certain. It’s from a completely unknown world. I don’t know the planet, don’t know the name of the language, or the people who created it. I need you to cross-reference it as best you can and translate it for me as soon as possible.”

Technically, he supposed the argument could be made that he was in violation of the terms of the agreement he had made with Daala. Some would say that in contacting Leia’s droid, he was initiating a request for information from Jedi sources. But Threepio also belonged to Han, and he was no Jedi. He’d ducked the issue entirely by contacting the droid directly. It made good legal sense, and also, it made Threepio feel good.

“Oooh. A challenge! I shall get to it immediately, Master Luke. How delightful to feel truly useful again. It does become rather tiresome to be relegated to cooking, cleaning, and answering comms. One yearns to do what one was designed for.”

“I know you’ll do your best. Let me know when you’ve got something.”

“The very nanosecond,” Threepio assured him. Luke had no doubt that Threepio meant it literally.

“Talk to you then,” he said.

“Take good care of yourself, Master Luke. And of Master Ben as well.”

Luke clicked off and leaned back in the chair, and wondered what sort of mischief his teenage son and the teenage Sith girl had gotten themselves into.