FIFTEEN

The vastness of the Megador’s Hangar 51 rumbled with activity as a small army of technicians, droids, and support personnel rushed to ready the entire wing of Jedi StealthXs for combat. The StealthXs were temperamental craft with specialized equipment, so even simple tasks like fueling and arming required twice as much work and made three times as much noise as the same work on a standard starfighter. And the systems checks caused a cacophony in their own right, as furious bleeps and tweets flew back and forth between the StealthXs’ security-conscious astromechs and the Megador’s self-important diagnostic droids.

As a result, Jacen could not overhear what Luke and Mara were saying to Saba and to his parents at the Falcon’s boarding ramp. But he doubted it was a problem. They were all holding hands and embracing, and he could feel their concern and warm feelings in the Force.

Probably, Luke had just called Jacen over to say good-bye before his parents departed on their mission against the Chiss. Jacen would have liked to save them the trip—to make them see that the Chiss would keep attacking the Killiks whether Luke’s crazy scheme worked or not. But he did not dare.

Lowbacca and Tesar’s accusations had left him in a tenuous position with Luke and Mara, and Jacen could not risk aggravating the situation by openly opposing Luke’s plan. Everything depended on the Chiss winning this war, and he had to remain in a position to make certain they did.

Jacen reached the foot of the Falcon’s boarding ramp and stopped, waiting his turn to embrace his parents and wish them a good journey. Despite his father’s graying hair and the crow’s-feet creeping out from the corners of his mother’s eyes, he did not think of them as old. They were just experienced—vastly experienced.

They had been going on missions like this together for over thirty years—since long before he and Jaina had been born—and Jacen was just beginning to truly understand the sacrifices they had made, the risks they had taken. How often had they faced dilemmas like the one he faced now, had to choose between a terrible evil and an absolute one? How many secrets like Allana had they kept hidden—how many were they still hiding?

The time had come for Jacen and his peers to take up the beacon his parents and their friends had been carrying all these years—not to push aside the previous generation, but to carry the burden themselves and allow the old heroes a well-deserved rest. He knew he and his fellows were ready; a group of Jedi had not been as carefully selected and prepared since the days of the Old Republic. But when Jacen looked at his parents and recalled how they had changed the galaxy, he found himself wondering whether he and his generation were worthy.

Sometimes, given their secure childhoods and formal training, he even wondered whether the new Jedi were too soft. Compared with the filthy, overcrowded freighter that his father had called home as a boy, or the dusty Tatooine moisture farm that had shaped his uncle Luke’s early life, the Jedi academy on Yavin 4 had been luxurious. Even his mother, raised in the Royal Palace of Alderaan, had understood true danger as a child, with the deadly gaze of Palpatine always turned her family’s way.

“Jacen?”

Jacen felt his father’s eyes on him and realized everyone was looking in his direction.

“You here?” Han asked. “You’re not having another of your visions, are you?”

“No, just…” He was surprised to find a lump in his throat. “…just thinking.”

“Well, stop it,” Han ordered. “You’re scaring me.”

Jacen forced a smile. “Sorry. I wouldn’t want that.” He turned to his mother. “You can’t talk him out of this?”

Leia must have sensed something despite his defenses, because she ignored the joke and said, “Is there a reason I should?”

Jacen rolled his eyes, but silently cursed his mother’s perceptiveness. “It was a joke, Mom.” He spread his arms and wrapped her in a tight hug so she would not be able to examine his face too closely. “I just came to wish you a safe trip.”

He released her and turned to embrace his father. “Good…” Had Jacen realized he was going to have such a hard time concealing his emotions, he would have found an excuse to be busy doing something else when his parents departed. “…bye, Dad.”

“Take it easy, kid. We’re coming back.” Han suddenly stiffened, then pulled back and eyed Jacen nervously. “Aren’t we? You haven’t seen something—”

“You’re coming back, Dad—I’m certain of it,” Jacen said. “Just be careful, okay? Raynar isn’t going to believe you—and it won’t help that you’re telling the truth.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Han sounded relieved. “Look, kid, we’ve been over this about a—”

“We’ll be fine, Jacen,” Leia interrupted, finally warming to him and squeezing his hand. “This is the only way to make the Chiss understand how difficult it would be to win a war against the Killiks.”

Saba stepped up behind Leia, looming over her the way Chewbacca used to loom over Han. “Everything will be fine, Jacen. Your mother is a powerful Jedi—az strong in her way as you are in yourz.”

Jacen nodded. “I know that.” He leaned down and kissed Leia on the cheek. “May the Force be with you, Mom.”

“And with you, too, Jacen,” Leia said. “We’re not the ones who’ll be attacking Gorog’s nest ship.”

Han’s face suddenly fell. “That’s not what you’re worried about—is it?” he asked. “Did you see—”

“I didn’t see anything, Dad,” Jacen said. “Really.” He shooed his father up the ramp. “Go on. I’ll meet you when this is over.”

Han studied him for a moment, then finally nodded. “I’ll hold you to that, kid. Don’t let me down.”

He took Leia’s hand and started up the ramp.

Saba remained behind, one slit-pupiled eye fixed on Jacen, and began to siss in amusement. “You are alwayz full of surprisez, Jacen Solo.” She started up the ramp. “Alwayz so full of surprisez.”

Jacen had to fight down a moment of panic. He knew that Ben found the Barabel Master frightening, and he was beginning to understand why—she was just so hard to read.

Before starting up the ramp after Saba and the others, C-3PO paused in front of Jacen and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Pardon me, Master Jacen. But did whatever you saw have anything to do with me?”

Before Jacen could answer, Han’s voice sounded from the top of the boarding ramp. “Threepio! If you’re still on that ramp in three seconds, you’ll be riding to Tenupe cargo-clamped to the hull!”

“Threats are hardly necessary, Captain Solo!” C-3PO clumped up the ramp after Saba and the others, his golden hands paddling the air. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Jacen smiled and waved a last farewell to his parents, then retreated to safe distance and watched with Luke and Mara as the boarding ramp retracted and the Falcon slipped out of the hangar. The ship hung below the Megador for a moment, a mere teardrop of white durasteel framed by the hangar’s huge mouth, then spun toward the Star Destroyer’s stern and streaked off deeper into the Unknown Regions.

Luke’s hand suddenly clasped Jacen by the shoulder, and Jacen barely stopped himself from cringing. He could not afford to show any hint of surprise…or guilt.

“I’ll bet it seems like they’ve been doing that your whole life, doesn’t it?” Luke asked fondly.

“It does,” Jacen said, nodding. “And I couldn’t be prouder.”

“No?” Mara slipped a hand through his other arm. “Well, neither could they.”

“Uh, thanks.” Jacen felt the lump forming in his throat again and swallowed it into submission. “Maybe I ought to get back to my fighter. Neufie has been giving those diagnostic droids—”

“In a minute,” Luke said. “First, I’d like you to come with us.”

“Sure.” Jacen’s heart began to pound so hard he had to use a Jedi calming exercise to quiet it. “Where?”

“Ghent is ready to show us the rest of Artoo’s secret files,” Mara said. “But he still hasn’t finished duplicating the omnigate, so this may be the only time anyone gets to see the holos of your grandparents. Luke and I thought you’d like to be there.”

“You did?” Jacen said, almost allowing his relief to show. “I mean, yes—of course!”

“It’s okay—I’m nervous, too.” Luke laughed uneasily, then added, “Scared, even.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Mara’s tone was a little too light. The Skywalkers joked openly about Alema Rar’s insinuation that Mara might have played a role in the death of Padmé Amidala, but Jacen knew how hurt his aunt had been by the whole incident.

The question had to be answered—and it had to be answered before the Jedi attacked the Gorog nest ship. Luke could not face Lomi Plo otherwise. She would find any trace of doubt—especially that doubt—and use it to veil herself completely.

That was one of the reasons Jacen believed he ought to be the one to confront Lomi Plo. He had no doubts—of any kind. Vergere had scorched them out of him in a crucible of pain.

They found Ghent in a small briefing salon that overlooked Hangar 51, sitting on the floor beside R2-D2, surrounded by the usual litter of tools, circuits, and snack wrappers. The lanky slicer was peering through an access panel with his magnispecs flipped down, manipulating a micrograbber in each hand and muttering to himself in a high-pitched, staccato manner that sounded alarmingly like machine code. Afraid to cause a mishap by startling him, they stopped just inside the door and waited for him to remove his hands from inside the droid’s casing.

“What are you standing there for?” Ghent asked without looking away from his work. “You won’t see anything from the door.”

“Sorry.” Luke led the way forward. “Are you ready?”

“Don’t I look ready?” Ghent asked. “All I have to do is snap the omnigate back in place.”

“Oh,” Luke said. “When I saw all the circuits—”

“Standard maintenance,” Ghent interrupted. “No wonder this droid acts up. Some of those circuits haven’t been cleaned in twenty standard years. They had carbon molecules stacked a hundred moles high.”

As they drew closer, Jacen realized the slicer must have been working on R2-D2 for a couple of days straight—at least it smelled that way. In any case, Ghent had clearly not found time for a decent sanisteam lately. They stopped several paces away and watched as he snapped a circuit board back in place.

“All set.” He rocked back on his heels, then looked up and said, “I don’t think you should do this, you know.”

“You told us already,” Mara said.

Ghent’s brow rose. “I did?”

“Several times,” Luke said.

“Oh.” Ghent ran a hand over his tattooed head, then said, “It’s just that I’ve almost got the omnigate figured out. Another three weeks—no more than six, really—and I’d have it for sure. Then you could look at these files anytime you liked.”

“We don’t have six weeks.” Luke checked his chrono. “We’re due to launch in six hours.”

Ghent’s eyes widened. “That soon? I thought we had three days!”

“It has been three days,” Mara said patiently.

Ghent looked around him in a daze, then said, “I guess he was in worse shape than I thought.”

“Ghent, we really need to see that holo now,” Mara pressed gently. “A lot depends on it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ghent said. “But I don’t think you understand. That’s the Intellex Four designer’s original back door. If we fry it before we’ve copied it, we’re destroying a whole sub-era of computer history.”

“Ghent, it’s really important,” Luke said.

The slicer sighed, then flipped R2-D2’s primary circuit breaker without saying anything more.

The droid came to life with a startled bleep, then swiveled his dome around, carefully studying the stacks of tools and discarded circuit boards around him. After a moment, he began to roll back and forth on his treads, extending various utility arms and whistling in approval.

Then R2-D2’s photoreceptor swung past Ghent’s face. He gave a startled buzz, then looked at Luke and began to back away.

“Artoo, stop it!” Luke ordered. “Come back here. We need to see what happened to my mother after my father came back from Mustafar.”

R2-D2 tweeted an explanation in machine code. Jacen was not really surprised when Ghent translated it.

“He says Anakin Skywalker didn’t come back.”

“He didn’t?” Luke frowned. “What happened?”

R2-D2 remained silent for a moment, then abruptly blurted out an explanation.

“Padmé went to see your father,” Ghent reported.

“Then show us that,” Luke said to R2-D2. “And no tricks. I need to see this.”

R2-D2 whistled doubtfully.

“He says—”

“Artoo, just do it,” Luke interrupted. “We’re going into combat soon, and you need time to calibrate yourself with the StealthX.”

The droid trilled an excited question.

“If Ghent thinks you’re up to it,” Luke said. “And if you don’t keep stalling.”

R2-D2 tipped forward and activated his holoprojector. The image of a green starfighter appeared on a landing platform on some distant world that could not be identified from the image. A young man in a dark robe appeared, running into the image from the direction of the starfighter. As he drew closer, it grew apparent that he was Anakin Skywalker. He appeared tired and grimy, as though he had just come from battle. That fit what he had told Padmé in the last holo that Jacen and the Skywalkers had seen together: that he was going to Mustafar to end the war.

“Padmé, I saw your ship,” Anakin said.

Padmé appeared, entering the image from the opposite direction, and they embraced.

“Anakin!” Her back was to the holocam, but it was clear that she was trembling.

“It’s all right, you’re safe now.” Anakin looked down into her eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was so worried about you!” Padmé’s voice was somewhat muffled, since she was still facing away from the holocam. “Obi-Wan told me terrible things.”

Anakin’s face clouded with anger. “Obi-Wan was with you?”

“He said you’ve turned to the dark side,” Padmé continued, avoiding a direct answer. “That you killed younglings.”

“Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me,” Anakin said darkly.

Padmé shook her head. “He cares about us.”

“Us?”

“He knows.” Padmé paused a moment, then said, “He wants to help you.”

“And you.” Anakin’s voice was full of jealousy now. “Don’t lie to me, Padmé. I have become more powerful than any Jedi dreamed of, and I’ve done it for you…to protect you.”

“I don’t want your power.” Padmé pulled away from him. “I don’t want your protection.”

Anakin drew her back to him. “Is Obi-Wan going to protect you?” he demanded. “He can’t…he can’t help you. He’s not strong enough.”

Padmé’s head fell, and she was silent for a long time.

Perhaps R2-D2 had attuned his communications routines to Luke’s moods over the years, because he seemed to sense the dread in Luke’s presence as clearly as Jacen did. The droid took advantage of the long silence to whistle a long, worried-sounding question.

“He’s afraid this is going to overload your circuits,” Ghent reported. “And I know we’re stressing his. Do you hear that warble in his interrogative pitch?”

“Keep going.” Luke’s tone grew a little softer. “It’s all right, Artoo. I’m fine.”

Jacen nodded his approval. There was an irrational and dangerous edge in Anakin’s voice, and Jacen understood why R2-D2 had been so reluctant to show these holos to Luke. But pain was only dangerous when it was feared—that had been one of Vergere’s first lessons. Luke needed to see the end of the holo. He needed to embrace the pain.

After a moment, Padme raised her head again in the holo.

“Anakin, all I want is your love.”

“Love won’t save you,” Anakin snarled. “Only my new powers can do that.”

“At what cost?” Padmé demanded. “You’re a good person. Don’t do this.”

“I won’t lose you the way I lost my mother.” Anakin’s face belonged to someone else now, someone angry and frightened and selfish.

Padmé did not seem to see the change—or, if she did, she remained determined to bring the other Anakin back again. She reached for him.

“Come away with me,” she said. “Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can.”

Anakin shook his head. “Don’t you see? We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I can overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy…make things the way we want them to be.”

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing!” Padmé backed away, stumbling as though she had been struck.

Luke sighed audibly, clearly dismayed at the arrogance that had led his father down the dark path of the oppressor. But Jacen found himself responding to his grandfather far more sympathetically, almost with admiration. Anakin Skywalker had understood his own strength, and—at one time, at least—he had tried to use that strength to bring peace. Vergere would have approved. Power unused was power wasted, and whatever had happened to him later, Anakin Skywalker had at least attempted to use his for a good end.

For a moment, R2-D2’s hologram began to flitter, and everyone held their breath. Then the droid gave a click and a whir, and the scene continued.

Padmé had stopped retreating from Anakin.

“Obi-Wan was right,” she said. “You’ve changed.”

“I don’t want to hear any more about Obi-Wan!” Anakin started after her. “The Jedi turned against me. The Republic turned against me. Don’t you turn against me.”

“I don’t know you anymore,” Padmé said. “Anakin, you’re breaking my heart. I’ll never stop loving you, but you’re going down a path I can’t follow.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Because of Obi-Wan?”

“Because of what you’ve done! What you plan to do!” Padmé’s voice grew commanding. “Stop now.” She was silent for a moment, then her tone softened. “Come back. I love you.”

Anakin’s gaze shifted, and he seemed to be looking over Padmé’s shoulder toward the cam. “Liar!”

Padmé spun around, and for the first time it grew clear just how advanced her pregnancy was. Her jaw fell in dismay. “No!”

“You’re with him!” Anakin’s gaze had returned to Padmé. “You’ve betrayed me!”

“No, Anakin.” Padmé shook her head and started toward him again. “I swear…I—”

Anakin extended his arm, his hand shaped into an arc. Padmé cried out, then grabbed her throat and began to make terrible gurgling sounds.

Luke cried out in disbelief, and the Force grew heavy with grief and outrage. Even Jacen—whose time among the Yuuzhan Vong had taught him never to be surprised by the brutality one being could inflict on another—felt his stomach turn at the sight of his grandfather using the Force to choke the woman he supposedly loved.

An ominous but barely audible whine arose somewhere inside R2-D2. The holo began to flicker again, and a familiar voice spoke from outside the holo frame.

“Let her go, Anakin.”

Arm still extended—and Padmé still choking—Anakin turned to sneer at the speaker. “What have you and she been up to?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped into view, wearing the sand-colored robes of a Jedi. Though his back was to the camera, his shape and bearded profile were clearly recognizable.

“Let…her…go!”

Anakin whipped his arm to one side, and Padmé flew out of the holo.

Anakin started forward to meet Obi-Wan, saying, “You turned her—”

A sharp pop sounded from R2-D2’s interior, and the holo dissolved into static.

Ghent flipped his magnispecs down, then peered through R2-D2’s access panel and cried out as though a blaster bolt had pierced his heart. He lowered his micrograbbers through the opening and clicked something, then retrieved what appeared to the naked eye to be a smoking dust speck.

“I knew this would happen!” the slicer cried. “It’s an omniash now!”

No one answered. Luke was stiff and ashen, fighting back tears. Mara was staring at the spot where Padmé’s limp form had vanished from the holo. Jacen was trying to decide where his grandfather had gone wrong, trying to puzzle out what flaw had made him a slave to his temper. Even R2-D2 remained silent, continuing to project a column of holostatic onto the floor.

After a moment, Ghent seemed to realize that the loss of the omnigate was not the most serious one of the day. He laid his hand on Luke’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Well, at least we know it wasn’t Mara who killed your mother.”

“Ghent!” Mara’s eyes looked ready to loose a flight of blaster bolts.

“What’s wrong?” Ghent seemed genuinely confused. “Isn’t that what we were trying to find out?”

“Drop it,” Mara ordered.

Tears were escaping down Luke’s cheeks now, and Jacen could sense him struggling with the anger he felt toward his father. It left a fiery, bitter taste in the Force, all the more powerful because of the forgiveness that Luke had already granted Anakin Skywalker.

Ghent remained entirely unaware of all this history, of course. “But now we know,” he insisted. “It wasn’t Mara!”

Jacen sighed. “Ghent, we really don’t know that,” he explained. “We only saw Anakin throw Padmé. We don’t know that my grandmother actually died.”

R2-D2 trilled a series of sad notes.

“You see?” Ghent asked, as though everyone else could understand what the droid was saying, too. “Do you want to see it?”

“See what?” Mara demanded.

“Her death,” Ghent replied. “This is what Artoo has been trying to protect Luke from, but now that the secret is out—”

“No—I’ve seen everything I need to.” Luke rose and wiped his face dry, then added, “We have a battle to prepare for.”

Jacen did not like the hollowness in his uncle’s voice. Luke was retreating from his pain, avoiding that last file because he knew how devastating it would be to watch his mother die. And pain you feared was pain that could be used to control you. Luke was not ready to face Lomi Plo, would not be ready until he accepted the tragedy that had befallen his parents—until he embraced it.

“Are you sure?” Jacen asked. “It couldn’t take long, and who knows when Artoo is going to be this cooperative—”

“I’m sure!” Luke snapped. “Don’t you have some flight checks you should be doing?”

Mara nodded toward the door, but Jacen remained where he was. “This is more important. We need to talk about it.”

Luke sighed, then went over to a briefing chair and sat down. “Okay, Jacen. Let’s hear it.”

Mara cringed, then closed her eyes and touched Jacen in the Force, urging him not to press the matter.

Jacen took a deep breath, then said, “I’m not sure you’re ready to win this fight, Uncle Luke.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Jacen.” Luke’s tone was stern. “But go ahead.”

Jacen did not hesitate. “You haven’t committed yourself yet,” he said. “You’re afraid to look at the last file—”

“I don’t need to look at it,” Luke said. “I know what happened. I knew the instant that I saw my…that we saw Darth Vader raise his hand to my mother.”

“You’re afraid of the pain,” Jacen accused.

“Pain isn’t always good, Jacen,” Mara said. “Sometimes it’s just distracting.”

“And I don’t need to be distracted right now.” Luke pointedly started to rise. “What I need is to prepare myself for combat…and so do you, Jacen.”

“It’s not only the file,” Jacen pressed. He was certain now that he should be the one to face Lomi Plo; that he was the only one who had no doubts about what they must do. “You’re not going to kill Raynar, either.”

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” Luke said.

“You may think you haven’t decided,” Jacen said. “But you’re not going to—and it’s a mistake.”

Luke cocked his brow. “I see.” He fell silent for a moment, then returned to his chair. “I don’t know what you’ve foreseen, Jacen, but I can promise you this—regardless of Raynar’s fate, the Colony will be destroyed. The war in your vision won’t come to pass.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Luke, but promises aren’t good enough,” Jacen said. He would not trust Allana’s life to good intentions. “We must be sure the Colony dies—and that means we must act.”

Mara came and sat beside Luke in front of Jacen, then asked, “So you’re going to kill a man—someone who was once your friend—just to be certain?”

“I won’t enjoy it,” Jacen said. “But it’s necessary.”

“I know you think so, Jacen,” Luke said. “But I’m not convinced. Not yet.”

“We can’t afford to doubt ourselves,” Jacen insisted. “We must decide…and act.”

Luke sighed in exasperation. “Vergere again.” He shook his head. “Look, I know her instruction saved your life—”

“And helped us win the war with the Yuuzhan Vong,” Jacen pointed out.

“And helped win the war against the Yuuzhan Vong,” Luke admitted patiently. “But I’m not sure we should embrace her ideas as the core of our Jedi philosophy—in fact, I’m sure we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Jacen demanded.

“Because we’re no longer at war with the Yuuzhan Vong, for one thing,” Mara said. She shook her head, then pointed at R2-D2’s holoprojector. “Didn’t you learn anything from what you just saw?”

Jacen scowled, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Luke’s voice grew sharp. “There’s more to being a Jedi than being effective, Jacen.” He looked away, then continued in a gentler tone. “Since the war ended, I’ve been growing more and more troubled by Vergere’s teachings, and I think I finally understand why.”

Jacen lifted his brow. “Why?”

“Because their ruthlessness reminds me so much of what my father believed.” Luke turned and looked into Jacen’s eyes. “Of what the Emperor taught him to believe.”

Jacen was astounded. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m not saying Vergere’s teachings are immoral,” Luke replied. “In fact, they don’t concern themselves with morality at all. They provide no guidance.”

“Exactly!” Jacen said. “They’re about ridding ourselves of illusions, about seeing that nothing is ever truly dark or light, completely good or evil.”

“So a Jedi is free to take any action necessary to achieve his goal?” Luke asked. “His only duty is to be effective?”

“His first duty is to choose,” Jacen said. “Everything follows from that.”

Mara and Luke looked at each other, and something passed between them that Jacen barely perceived.

Finally, Luke said, “But Jacen, that isn’t what a Jedi is.”

Jacen frowned. He could not understand what his uncle was trying to tell him, except that it had to do with principles and responsibilities—with those ancient shackles that Vergere had taught him to open. Could Luke really be saying that the Jedi should don them again; that they should let the opinions of others dictate their actions?

“Very well,” Jacen said cautiously. “What is a Jedi?”

Luke smiled. “I suggest you spend some time meditating on that,” he said. “In the meantime, just remember that we aren’t bounty hunters, okay?”

Jacen nodded. “Yes, Master.” He understood that he was being told in no uncertain terms not to assassinate Raynar—at least not without Luke’s permission. “I understand, but I sense that you still have doubts about the morality of your plan. Perhaps I should be the one to confront Lomi Plo.”

Luke’s face showed his astonishment. “Is that what this was about?”

“I might be the better choice,” Jacen said. “I don’t have any doubts about this plan—or anything else, for that matter.”

Luke stood, a smile of relief spreading across his face, and clapped Jacen on the shoulder.

“Jacen, you are a good Jedi,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” Now Jacen was really confused. “Does that mean you agree with me?”

“Not at all—you’re mistaking fairness for doubt,” Luke said. He motioned R2-D2 to follow, then pulled Jacen toward the door. “I am going to kill Lomi Plo.”