TREEMA COURTHOUSE AND DETENTION AREA, KLATOOINE

“Our dads’ll be here soon,” Ben said.

Vestara frowned at him. “We wouldn’t have to wait on them to get us out of here if you’d just let me convince the guards to let us go.”

“Here” was an old, dilapidated holding cell located deep inside the Treema Courthouse and Detention Area. The security systems were utterly inadequate to the task of confining two powerful Force-users. They could have left any time they wished. Vestara was well aware of this and irritated with the fact.

“Problem is,” Ben said, “My dad would want us to cooperate with the officials. And if you try to use mind tricks on the wrong person, they notice and they get pretty ticked off with you. It’s just easier to go along with them.”

She snorted slightly and folded her arms, shifting a bit farther away on the cold durasteel bench. She clearly would have liked to put more distance between them, but there was only one bench in the cell. The only lighting came from glow rods older than they were, and the tiny room smelled musty and unused.

“My father wouldn’t have handled it that way,” Vestara said.

“Your father—” Ben began heatedly, then choked the words back. “Never mind.”

She eyed him, but with more curiosity than irritation. “My father what? Go on.”

It was Ben’s turn to fold his arms. “I said, never mind. They’re just … very different.”

“Well, of course, one is a Jedi and the other is a proud and well-respected Saber,” Vestara said.

He turned to her, angry, then saw that she was smiling at him. Not just her it’s-almost-but-not-really-a-smile, but a genuine one. She was teasing him. Or was she trying to lure him out? He could never tell.

Ben decided to play along. Maybe he’d learn something. At the very least, it was an entertaining way to kill time.

“You seem close to your father, but it’s very … distant,” he said, firing the first volley.

“And you seem overly familiar. Almost rude to him. He should beat you more often.”

“My dad never beat me and never would!” Ben said indignantly, then immediately modified the statement. “Well, when I was younger, I did usually end up a little battered after sparring with him, but that’s completely different.”

“Ah, so that’s what’s wrong with you!” The smile had reached her eyes. “Not beaten enough. A good Sith upbringing and you’d be just fine. No more of your smart-mouthed comments to your father, to whom you should show respect.”

“I somehow think my dad would like Sith more if he heard that last bit,” Ben said. He unfolded his arms, clasped his hands behind his back, and stretched out his legs. “I think he’d approve of no more smart-mouthed comments. ‘Yes, dear Papa.’ ‘No, dear Papa.’ ‘You are amazing, dear Papa.’ ”

Vestara grinned. “Somehow, I just can’t see that coming from you,” she said.

“Good.”

“And I’m not that bad with my father!”

He relented a little. “No, you’re really not. But you are awfully formal.”

“And you aren’t.”

Ben shook his head. “No. Dad likes to say I got my mouth from Mom.” He was comfortable telling her this. If the Tribe, as they referred to themselves, had access to vessels as comparatively sophisticated as the ChaseMaster frigates, they had access to decent databanks.

“Well, whatever else Luke Skywalker might be, he is obviously an extremely patient man. My father would take no back talk from my mother. She isn’t even a Force-sensitive.”

“And that matters? To how you treat someone?”

A slight frown furrowed her pale brow. “Of course it does.”

“Yeah, I suppose it would. To a Sith.”

She leaned forward, her palms on the bench beside her. She seemed to want him to understand. “It is how we are, Ben. The more skills you have, the further you can advance. Advancement means wealth, power, and safety.”

“Yeah?” Ben turned to her. “Then if it was so important, how come Gavar Khai didn’t marry a fellow Force-sensitive?”

Vestara’s eyes widened, and he realized she had never thought to ask herself that question. “I—I suppose because he loved her.”

“Careful, that’s Jedi thinking!” Ben’s smile softened the words. She blushed a little and looked away.

“They do love each other, and he loves me,” Vestara said, almost as if she were trying to justify something. “It’s just … this is how we are. Who we are.”

“You know,” Ben said, working his way through the thought even as he spoke it, “There was a time when I wasn’t particularly close to Dad. It’s really been since Mom’s death that—” He caught himself, and thought, ah, the heck with it, and continued. She’d know sooner or later … and maybe this would help open her eyes a little bit. “—that we’ve gotten close.”

“I’m sorry,” Vestara said, and she sounded like she meant it. Her emotions in the Force did show sincere regret. “It must be hard to lose a parent. I would be very upset if anything happened to either of mine.”

Then I hope I’m not the one who has to lop off your father’s head with my lightsaber, Ben thought, with a slight bitterness. She sensed his change of mood in the Force and drew back, confused and suddenly slightly wary.

“It was hard on both of us,” Ben said, sending her a gentle brush of reassurance. “She was … an amazing woman. And a great mom.”

Vestara hesitated, then said, “You and your father seem to have … fun.”

“Do we?” Ben thought about the time he had shared with Luke on their journey thus far. He’d hardly call it “fun.” But then again … there had been a lot of good conversations, and they constantly exchanged playful zingers with no barbs to them. And he’d laughed. A lot. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Vestara did not reply. Ben knew that she loved her family, but she certainly didn’t have “fun” with Gavar Khai. The impression Ben got of the man was that living with him must be like constantly walking on the edge of a blade. He didn’t think that Khai would tolerate mistakes of the sort Ben had made throughout his short life. He wondered if Sith, like certain animals Ben had heard of, killed their offspring if they found imperfections in them.

He didn’t like that line of thought. And he didn’t like to see Vestara looking melancholy. So he said, “Speaking of fun … know any jokes?”

As Luke brought the Jade Shadow in for a landing, he reflected that the building that served as a courthouse and a prison had seen better days. It was a large duracrete dome whose paint had been weathered and chipped. There were a few windows, small ovals low to the ground, and several unprepossessing doors. This was not a species with much time or money with which to indulge any love of beauty that might exist among its populace. Nearly everything here, save for the breath-taking Fountain of the Hutt Ancients, was practical, weathered, and stolid.

Luke sighed, recognizing the type of design. Domes weathered sandstorms better; there was less roof surface for sand to pile atop of, and wall surface for the winds to pound against. He had not been back to Tatooine for many, many years, and had hoped to avoid venturing out into this arid world, but fate seemed to have other plans.

He settled the vessel down into the soft sand, then went down the ramp, squinting against the brightness of midday sun striking pale yellow sand. As he stepped off the ramp, he saw a figure coming toward him and sighed.

It was Gavar Khai. He must have been baking to death inside his heavy black-and-silver robes, but he gave no sign of it. His broad shoulders were straight, his dark head high, and he actually managed to somehow stride in the yielding sand. He had to be using the Force, Luke thought. The idea bothered him. To use the Force for something so trivial seemed a violation to him. But then again, Sith were hardly known for their respect toward the power of the Force. They used the dark side to further their own selfish ends and indulge their whims.

Whims like striding through sand.

He must have been alerted by Vestara as to the situation. Luke supposed Ben couldn’t have stopped her at this point. Luke moved toward the Sith, nodding a greeting. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

“My daughter is being detained because of your son,” Khai said bluntly. “This does not please me, Jedi.”

Luke’s blond eyebrows rose, but he kept his voice mild. “It was my understanding that an unfortunate young man snapped and was heading to defile the Fountain. Your daughter and my son took it upon themselves to prevent him from doing so.”

“I am certain that Ben forced her to go along with him. Let us not mince words, Skywalker. My daughter is currently what amounts to your prisoner. Even though we outnumber you, we are choosing to work together to end this threat that is mutually damaging. I am most certain that Ben had instructions to never leave Vestara unattended.”

Luke found himself grinning. “It’s clear that you’ve forgotten the spontaneity of youth, Khai.” He did not use the honorific “Saber.” “From what I have learned of Vestara, she is not one to sit idly by while others have all the fun.”

Khai’s nostrils flared as he took a deep, calming breath. “No. My daughter is bold. Still, my point stands.”

“Why don’t we go in and find out exactly what happened rather than standing out here arguing?” Luke suggested. “I’m sure those heavy dark robes aren’t the most comfortable thing to wear in a desert climate.”

Khai shrugged. “I had not noticed. Sith must become used to all climates, and with the Force, we can bend even heat and cold to our will. I am puzzled that you choose to not do so. I would think you had sufficient skill.”

“It’s sometimes easier just to dress appropriately,” Luke said, and headed for the courthouse door. Khai snorted and fell into step beside him.

Two Klatooinians stood guard by the door and demanded their names. Khai and Luke gave them, and were permitted admittance.

Inside the dome it was darker, if not much cooler. There was a clank-clank sound coming from somewhere that grated on the ear, probably some out-of-date cooling system in dire need of repair. A rather agitated-looking Klatooinian was seated at a battered desk. In front of her were several datapads in a haphazard pile. A small plaque read ABARA MUN, SECURITY AND DETENTION OFFICER.

“Master Luke Skywalker and Saber Gavar Khai,” the guard stated.

The female, presumably Abara Mun, glanced up swiftly, her jowls quivering with the movement. “Ah,” she said. “Excellent. Your children have been detained for questioning. As they are under the legal age according to our laws, we’ve held them until you arrived.”

Khai started to say something, but Luke stepped in smoothly, “We understand. I hope there are no charges brought against them?”

Mun rose. “Oh, not at all. Their quick action actually aided in defeating the would-be defiler. I imagine you’re proud of them. Their litter should be astonishing.”

She tossed out the comment offhandedly as she rose. It took both Sith and Jedi a second to realize what she was saying. Understanding broke over them simultaneously and both of them spoke at once.

“Oh, they’re not involved,” Luke said.

“There will be no children,” stated Khai. They turned to glare at each other for a moment, then Luke smiled at the confused Mun.

“Our children are not involved in any way. They’re … just friends.”

Mun raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Didn’t strike me that way, but suit yourself. We personally value strong litters and wise breeding, but I know not everyone shares our sentiments.”

The words were tolerant, but her voice revealed her contempt for their attitude. She beckoned them to follow her as she led them through dimly lit, narrow corridors winding their way between thick duracrete walls. It reminded Luke of a bunker.

He wondered what she might have seen or sensed to come to that conclusion. Had Ben and Vestara’s behavior led her to think that, or was it just her species’ social conditioning? He’d have to talk to Ben when they had a few moments alone. There was no such thing as “harmless” flirtation when it came to a Sith. Vestara would take his son’s innate goodness and optimism and seek to turn him to the dark side. Luke knew she would fail, and when she realized that too …

They turned a corner into a wider room with a mere four holding cells and a door that presumably opened onto yet another corridor. Luke thought that a surprisingly small number for such a major city, then realized that there probably was very little crime. For all intents and purposes, the Hutts owned Klatooine, thanks to the sweeping terms of the Treaty of Vontor. Luke was certain that any threat of misbehavior would result in being sent someplace extremely unpleasant. It was a deterrent to crime, but one that Luke would not wish on anyone.

He was mildly amused to see that the old doors were completely inadequate to housing anyone with even a modicum of Force ability. Ben and Vestara, both possessed of a great deal more than a modicum of ability, would not have been kept there for longer than about half a minute if they had not agreed to be. Mun stopped in front of the first cell and keyed in a code.

Ben’s voice floated out to them. “—and then the rancor says, ‘Then what did I just eat?’ ”

A peal of girlish laughter was heard, abruptly cut off as the door jerkily retracted into the wall. They were standing stiffly by the time the door was open completely, looking vaguely guilty.

“Oh, hey Dad,” Ben said. “That was uh … fast.”

Vestara’s hands were clasped behind her back and she executed a slight bow. “Greetings, Father. Thank you for coming.”

“Not a moment too soon, it would seem,” Gavar Khai said. “Come, Vestara. Let us leave the Skywalkers to their business.” Before Luke could protest, he gave the Jedi a sharp look. “Do not fear, I shall not abscond with her. We will be waiting for you outside.” Vestara gave Ben a quick, sidelong glance from underneath her lashes, then moved quickly to obey her father.

Luke didn’t much care for it, but he supposed there was nothing he could do. He was just sorry he had no way to record a conversation while they were outside melting in the sun.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Luke said. “We’ll see you shortly, then.”