Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: The Guise of Fate (#3506)
Author: Amara
Chapters: 20

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Archive: Star Wars
Category: Movieverse
Description: A lifetime before the Phantom Menace, Qui-Gon had a secret that not even he knew. Now, at the advent of war between Naboo and the Trade Federation, the players in the grand scheme are beginning to understand that when the Force binds two hearts together, nothing can be done to change Its Will. Or stop the chain of events triggered by their love, or the consequences that will shake the foundations of an Order and bring a galaxy to its knees. The only question is...will they survive?
Published: 06 Jul 2007
Updated: 10 Jul 2007
Warnings: Some battle violence, strong language
Type: Action/adventure
Characters: Alia (OC); Obi-wan Kenobi; Qui-Gon Jinn; Anakin Sk


Chapter 1 - Beginnings, Part I

Summary: When the Force binds two hearts together, nothing can be done to change Its Will. Or stop the chain of events triggered by their love, or the consequences that will shake the foundations of an Order and bring a galaxy to its knees.

Rating: T for some violence, swearing, and romantic situations.

Timeframe: AU TPM

Disclaimer: The characters and general TPM plotline belong to George Lucas and Terry Brooks, the latter from whom I've taken some elements of his novelization to heart. I do, however, own any characters you do not recognize. I am also making no money from this my heart's work.

// Text // denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 1 - Beginnings, Part I

Space. An emptiness existing without time or light, a nothingness that had given birth to a universe, a vacuum threatening the very hull of the small Republic cruiser that dared pierce its way through the blackness that was studded with stars of far-distant systems. Systems where the fates of worlds unknown collided everyday with the limits of reality and the visions of dreams. As had the fates of Jedi and angel approximately twenty-four Standard years before, in a remote part of space by sheer chance…or by some grand design set before the beginning of Time, through forces beyond control or understanding, that sent now a pawn of that Fate, designed since before the birth of the galaxy, through the emptiness of space to a small planet in the Mid Rim sector of the Republic.

Eyes of gray-blue looked out of the hood of a billowing cloak, their depths taking in the sight of the blue-green jewel that was Naboo, his and his Padawan’s current assignment. They took in the sight of the bulky Trade Federation starships that were increasing rapidly in size as the pilot took them closer, noting how many he could see, sensing those he did not, and contemplating on the mission at hand.

He began to turn his head slightly to the shorter figure beside him, then changed his mind as the viewscreen suddenly switched on, the face of the Neimoidian Trade Viceroy, Nute Gunray, stretching to fill the screen.

“Captain.”

The woman turned slightly in her seat to acknowledge the cloaked figure behind her.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell them we wish to board at once.”

His voice was deep and smooth, but its unmistakable note of determination compelled her to nod unconsciously.

“Yes, sir.”

Jead Kantil gave her copilot an uneasy glance, which was returned. Turning back to the viewscreen, Jead spoke in a clear voice, “With all due respect, Viceroy, the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor wish to board immediately.”

The Neimoidian nodded his green-grey head quickly.

“Yes, yes, of course…We would be happy to receive the ambassadors.”

As the screen went dark, Jead turned again in her seat to the dark figure behind the pilot’s chair.

“Sir?” she asked.

“Proceed, Captain.”

Jead nodded and turned quickly back to the controls. On Coruscant when she had learned the identities of her ship’s passengers, she had grown nervous: Jedi seemed to have that effect on everyone who wasn’t one, and their tendency to wear long, concealing cloaks did nothing to put her at ease. She knew Jihod, her cousin and copilot, felt the same. Putting the ambassadors in the back of her mind, the captain focused all of her concentration on navigating through the armaments that jutted out of the blocky Trade Federation command ship, sighing a little in relief when the hangar came into view and they were able to land the cruiser.

Turning around to speak to the Jedi, Jead found only empty space. Quirking an eyebrow at Jihod, she shook her head. / I should've known that Jedi would already know procedure. / Wondering where her common sense had gone, Jead returned to the controls.

The Jedi in question, meanwhile, had made their way through the bowels of the ship to the main hatch, and were waiting for the release of the locking bar so that the ramp could be lowered. Hoods raised to conceal their faces, they stepped out onto the Trade Federation command ship. Immediately a protocol droid, glinting silver in the harsh light from the hanger power generators, stepped forward.

“Hello. I am TC-14 and I am at your service. This way, please.”

The droid lead them through a series of corridors and hallways before stopping and motioning them inside to an empty conference room.

“I hope your honored sirs will be comfortable here. My master will be with you shortly.”

The droid spoke with respect, closing the door on its way out of the room. Once the door hissed shut, both figures withdrew their hoods from their faces. Qui-Gon Jinn, his brown hair worn long and tied back and his beard and mustache cropped close, stood at nearly two meters in height, and his sharp gray-blue eyes missed nothing as they took in their surroundings. The younger man was shorter, not nearly as tall as his Master, standing a few centimeters below him. His own hair was reddish-brown, and cropped close save for the small ponytail and braid that marked him as a Padawan-learner. Obi-wan Kenobi was strong and compact, light on his feet and intelligent; his Master couldn’t help but feel pride in him, though he was careful to not allow the feeling to be transported along their bond.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Master,” said his Padawan, turning to look around the room.

“I don’t sense anything,” replied Qui-Gon, shaking his head.

“It’s not about the mission, Master,” Obi-wan responded, “It’s something…elsewhere…elusive.”

The older Jedi placed a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Don’t center on your anxieties, Obi-wan. Focus your concentration on the here and now, where it belongs.”

“But Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future…”

Qui-Gon smiled at his apprentice.

“Yes, but not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-wan said, to his credit a small smile forming on his lips as they walked to the viewport, looking out at the blue-green planet beyond, “How do you think the Trade Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor’s demands?”

/ How indeed, Padawan. / Qui-Gon gave an easy shrug.

“These Federation types are all cowards; they will not be hard to persuade. The negotiations will be short.”

X X X X\r\n\r\n

Below the Federation starships and beyond the city of Theed, a woman wiped beads of sweat from her brow, impatiently adjusting the straps of her haversack. Looking up at the sky, her frustration quickly became concern as she wondered again at the reasons for the Federation blockade. She would need to leave soon, and she doubted she’d be allowed passage off-planet if the blockade continued much longer, especially with her connections to one of the Federation’s rivals.

The woman sighed and pulled one last time at a strap that refused to remain taut. / Zasa better appreciate the gifts I’ve brought for her. Some of the small “trinkets” she asked for weigh more than their price in gold. / Looking away from the ominous sky, she cast her eyes back once more at the trail she had hidden, and then at the one she had engineered. / They won't find me very easily. / she thought, impressing her boot slightly on the damp ground, giving the slightest hint of human passage.

The trackers were close; she had seen them as she left the outskirts of Theed not a Standard half-hour before, and had tried to lose them in the dense undergrowth of the forest-country. / They must be better than I thought. // Glancing around for shelter, her sharp eyes, flashing blue in the early sunlight, caught sight of a massive fallen log, nearly half a meter wide in diameter. Walking over to the fallen tree, she knelt and felt around the bottom, pleased when her fingers found a hollow of leaves where earth should have been.

Sticking her head into the hole beneath the log, she pressed down, pleased that it appeared large enough for a person and that there were already leaves and broken branches at its bottom, giving it a natural resistance to mud and other more unpleasant sensations of nature. Retrieving her head and hand, she pulled off her haversack and placed it on the ground, being careful of its contents. Once free of its weight, she crawled under the log feet first, keeping an eye on the clearing, and made herself as comfortable as possible.

Some of the branches she moved around, and others she pulled up to examine closely. Those passing inspection were laid with care around the mouth of the hole, covering any evidence of its existence to the outside; those that didn’t were placed back in her hiding place. A sudden tingle raised the hairs on her neck, and reacting instinctively, she opened herself to her power. Raising a hand, she Called her heavy pack to her, and it rose as if weightless, flying silent through the air until it was caught with bare hands and tucked under the fallen log, branches raising in place once it was safely hidden with its owner. / And now I must wait. /

They were not long in coming. Hidden in the undergrowth, she watched as they entered the clearing, the leader at the front, his shoulders set arrogantly. His walk reminded her of one of the young Court dandies she had left behind; she wondered suddenly if after his days of playing bounty hunter he also donned pink breeches to be in fashion, and a sudden snort escaped her control.

The trackers halted, looking to their leader, who proceeded to brandish his oversized blaster and swagger carelessly around the clearing, never noticing that his weapon was still switched off. She sobered almost instantly, and began to inch away from her haven’s edge closest to the trackers. The man called his company’s attention and they obeyed him despite their hidden looks of contempt. She wondered briefly why anyone would follow him, then shrugged mentally. His haughtiness had nearly caused her to give her place away in laughter; she wouldn’t make that mistake again. / But he’s so funny. He looks like a child playing elder. Or hunter. / As they passed her she could see that not all his company was human: an Aqualish and two Rodians were part of the group, their weapons screaming bounty hunter. / What are they doing this far out from civilization? / she wondered, peering out from the underbrush.

They were passing her hiding place without a second glance, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen her. Once she could no longer hear them, she crept out from her leafy haven, and tried to remember another route to Lake Paonga. She stood for a few moments, quiet and still, trying to clear her mind of the bounty hunters. She had come too far, there was no other safe way for her to continue, save for the direction the trackers had taken. But…perhaps she didn’t need to take her exact route.


Her mind unconsciously calculating the width and height of the trees towering over her, she thought about the bounty hunters. As impossible as it seemed, if they were looking for her, if they were trailing her, then she could not simply go back to Theed; they might have friends waiting for her. Raising her head, she made her decision: she couldn’t go forward and she couldn’t back, so upward was her only choice.

A slight smile tugged at her mouth as she reached behind her for the climbing sticks she had never gone without. / I’ve missed walking in the trees since I left Dysis. Goddess, let’s see how much I’ve forgotten. / Settling them into her hands, she gave them a twirl, enjoying the feel of their grip against her skin, the carved wood-grain of their handles bringing memories of her foster-brother into her mind. She pushed them away, setting her heart against her memories and her chin in determination.

/ I don't regret my decision. / She could not. / They wanted me to be someone I’m not, someone I’ve never been, and never could be. / Despite the iron hand that controlled her mind, thoughts eluded capture, and as she began her ascent upward into the trees, memories of Jaris’ patient teaching surfaced.

Each limb was tested carefully as he had taught her, resting one of her feet lightly upon it and gradually increasing its weight more and more. After a few tries, she had picked a nice large branch about the width of her hips and placed both feet lightly onto its bark.

The climbing sticks were shoved into her belt, and with a slight adjustment of her pack’s weight, the woman began running along the length the limb, jumping at its bend onto another branch jutting out from a nearby tree. Landing with a slight sway, she caught her footing quickly, lest her weight pull her into a freefall that would end with her plummeting to her death. / And I’m not quite ready for that just yet. / As adrenaline began to rush through her veins, her breathing quickened and she smiled to herself. / Oh, how I’ve missed this. / Still smiling, she set off again, running along branches and across the gaps in between.

Soon she had come upon the group of bounty hunters with their asinine leader: his brilliant sense of direction had led them straight into a kashi swamp, and nearly all of them were mired in one way or another in the powerful suction of the soggy ground. As she passed them, her laughter became distorted as it traveled through the trees, causing them to look up and wonder if the spirits said to haunt the forest-country were real.

X X X X\r\n\r\n

Above the planet, in the conference room in which they had been left, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan stared at each other from across a long table. The younger Jedi was not as comfortable with waiting as his Master appeared to be: meditation was one thing, but this was another.

“Is it in their nature to make us wait this long?” he asked, finally.

Qui-Gon turned as if to speak when the door suddenly hissed open, and the droid, TC-14, stepped inside, carrying a tray of drinks and food. It crossed the room to the table, placing the tray in front of them and handing to each a drink. The older Jedi motioned to his Padawan, and they each took the glass offered to them, lifting their drinks and tasting them. Qui-Gon nodded to the droid.

“No,” he said, placing his drink on the table, “I sense an unusual amount fear for something as trivial as this trade dispute. We must be mindful of the Force, my Padawan.”

Obi-wan nodded.

“Perhaps-” he began.

An explosion suddenly rocked the room, cutting him off and causing the drinks to spill, the tray to crash onto the floor, food spilling everywhere, and the droid to stumble backwards, mumbling apologies profusely. The Jedi leapt to their feet, their lightsabers drawn and humming with power. A faint hissing sound could be heard as pale green clouds emerged from the vents near the doorway.

“Dioxis.”

As one the blades switched off, and the Jedi breathed in deeply before shutting off the air supply to their lungs. / And now, we wait. /

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X \r\n\r\n

Author's Notes

Dysis pronounced “Dy-sis” a made-up planet; the system will come in later and is completely mine. I am basing much of the culture on Greece, so the names for the planets come from Ancient Greek: Dysis means “sunset”.

Kashi pronounced “Kah-shee”; my creation and not belonging to GL, these swamps are natural traps for outside invaders of the Naboo forest-country; once stepped in, mud and sludge cling to victim and slowly draw downward, a little like quicksand, but not life-threatening. Easy to get out of if carrying water: wash contaminated part of body with water and sludge will wash off.


Chapter 2 - Beginnings, Part II

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

// Text //[i] denotes mental thought
[i]{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 2 - Beginnings, Part II

On the bridge, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched through a viewscreen as battle droids lined up into formation outside of the conference room. Satisfaction, pleasure, and surprise crowding his mind all at once at having eliminated his problem so easily, Nute Gunray switched on the viewpad that allowed him to communicate to the droids.

“They must be dead by now,” the Viceroy said to the squadron leader, “Destroy what is left.”

As the hologram faded, the leader motioned to one of its subordinates; the second droid nodded its mechanical head and moved forward. It pressed its claw-like hand to the pressure panel and the door opened with a hiss. Noxious green clouds billowed out into the hallway as the deadly gas escaped into the corridors. The droids saw movement in the clouds and raised their weapons until they saw a glint of silver.

“Oh, excuse me,” said TC-14, carrying a tray laden with empty glasses and half-spilled food.

With all the efficiency in its databanks, the droid moved aside, and continued on its way.

“Check it out, Corporal,” the squadron leader said, “We’ll cover you.”

“Roger, roger,” it replied.

Instantly the Jedi appeared, charging from the room with lightsabers flashing: green for the Master, blue for the apprentice. Qui-Gon’s saber sliced neatly through two of the battle group and came around in a swift arc to send another flying in a shower of sparks and scattered parts. Obi-wan’s blue blade deflected bolt after bolt of blaster fire, sending them hurtling back to their relative owners. The droids erupted in a shower of sparks; on raising his hand palm outward, he sent another flying backward against the wall.

On the bridge viewscreen, Nute Gunray and his lieutenant could see only the smoke and lingering clouds of gas that obscured their vision. Alarms had begun to sound through the ship, echoing off its metal hull.

“What is going on down there?” demanded the Viceroy, his eyes wide.

But Rune simply shook his head, asking, “Have you never encountered a Jedi Knight before, sir?”

Neimoidians were a cowardly people by nature, preferring to hide behind those in power, and at the moment, Nute Gunray wanted nothing more than to do just that.

“Well,” he blustered, trying to quell his growing fear, “No, but…Seal off the bridge!”

As the doors closed, the Viceroy could see one of the Jedi in the hallway, sprinting to the control room. But he was too late, Nute breathed in relief: the doors had shut before the Jedi could reach the bridge and its treacherous occupants. Rune Haako, however, was not so easily subdued. He shook his head at the blast doors that protected them from the Jedi.

“That won’t be enough, sir,” he said, his voice low.

His lieutenant’s certainty frightened Nute, and he shouted:

“I want droidekas up here at once!”

“We will not survive this.”

Suddenly, a blade of light cut through the door of the bridge, and began tracing a circle into the solid metal. Nute felt his throat begin to tighten and his skin began to crawl.

“Close the blast doors, now!” he screamed, “Where are those droidekas?”

One after another, the blast doors began to close. Outside, Qui-Gon withdrew his blade at the sound of the magnetic blast doors sealing shut. With Obi-wan dispatching the last of the battle droids outside the bridge, Qui-Gon suddenly plunged his lightsaber almost up to the hilt, the energy-charged blade penetrating through the steelcrete of the blast doors like soft butter. The crew stood transfixed as a spot of molten metal appeared in the center of the door. Mutters of disbelief were quickly silenced by the Viceroy’s screaming. At the center of the final blast door, the metal began to turn molten and burn away.

“They are still coming through,” Rune whispered, gathering his robes as he backed away.

Viceroy Gunray couldn’t believe his eyes.

“This is impossible!”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Outside, Obi-wan watched his Master burn away the bridge’s blast doors with pride, even as he remained alert to the hallway. A good choice: when his instincts warned him of danger, he called out to Qui-Gon.

“Master, destroyers!”

Qui-Gon whirled around to face the droidekas that had rolled around the hallway. Together he and his Padawan deflected the incoming blaster fire with all their skill. The redirected energy bounced off the droids’ shields, sending the bolts flying into the walls and showering sparks everywhere.

“They have shield generators!” Obi-wan shouted to his Master.

“It’s a stand-off,” replied Qui-Gon, “Let’s go.”

On the viewscreen inside the bridge, Nute Gunray and company watched as at first one moment the Jedi were fighting off the destroyers, and then the next they were gone. His fear not entirely gone, the Viceroy gathered his robes around him as Rune Haako spoke with triumph:

“They’re no match for droidekas!”

“Sir,” said the captain seated below him, “They’ve gone up the ventilation shaft!”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

The wind whipped through her hair, playing with it, tossing its brown length wildly behind her as she ran through the trees. The haversack that had been so heavy on the ground now seemed lighter than air. She laughed at the freedom she tasted, scented, touched as the wind pulled at her, the sun shone down on her, and the world rushed by her with breathtaking speed.

Joy filled her, made her heart swell until she felt as if it would burst into a thousand golden suns. She tossed her head, whooping aloud as she saw a yawning gap open before her, her laughter eerie in the heart of the forest. Leaping into the air with all the grace of a dancer, for a few precious seconds, she was in her element: suspended while in motion between earth and sky and sunlight.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

In the main hangar bay of the star ship, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi crouched silently behind cargo boxes, watching racks being lowered and thousands of sleek silvery shapes marching up the massive landing platforms to be secured.

“Battle droids,” Qui-Gon said softly, surprised and dismayed

“It’s an invasion army,” his apprentice replied, glancing away to his master.

“This is an odd move for the Trade Federation,” Qui-Gon observed, “We have to warn the Naboo, and contact Chancellor Valorum.”

Obi-wan looked at him, and suddenly the humor of their situation struck him.

“You were right about one thing, Master,” he said.

Qui-Gon looked at him.

“The negotiations were short.”

Nearly, but not quite, rolling his eyes, Qui-Gon smiled softly to himself as he beckoned his apprentice ahead.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

/ Not much farther, now. Zasa will be so pleased with the Calamari shells I was able to find for her. I hope Jingo likes the balka leaves; I wonder if Ja- /

A sudden shadow flew overhead, and she stopped as soon as she could, her eyes showing her confusion. Shaking her head, she dropped her pack onto the branch beneath her and withdrew her climbing sticks from her belt. Twirling them to find the perfect grip had been second nature to her for years, and it held well with her now. Effortlessly digging the sharpened ends into the tree bark, she pulled herself up using the strength in her arms and the special grips that were customary on the soles and toes of Dysean boots.

Swinging herself onto a branch, she stuck her head up and out of the last tier of tree-canopy and was able to see around the tops of the trees for miles. Another buzz came from behind her, and as she ducked her head, she was shocked to see a massive double-winged transport ship pass by bearing the mark of the Trade Federation. / Goddess, what are they doing here? A blockade is one thing, but invasion? / She watched as the transport ship swung around, no doubt looking for a place to land; the pilot seemed to find it as the ship began to descend and touch down beneath treetops that obscured her vision.

Shaking, she pulled her head back under the canopy, shocked at the actions of the Trade Federation. / How can they do this? / She shook her head. She had to get the lake now; she had to warn them. She trapped the climbing sticks once more to her back, within easy reach, and jumped down, landing lightly on the branch she had abandoned; picking up her pack once more, she checked it to see if any ties had become loose. There was no choice now. Breathing deep, she ran her mind through various calming exercises, readying her heart. / I have to get there in time. / As she began her wild run, she laughed to herself. / I wanted a reason to not go back to Theed. I guess I found one. /

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Qui-Gon Jinn slipped wraithlike through the swamp, listening to the heavy rustling and snapping branches behind him as the transports began to advance. Mixed with the deeper, heavier whine of transport engines was that of the high-pitched buzzing of the STAPs whipping above the watery terrain of Naboo. Animals of all shapes and sizes began to scatter around Qui-Gon as he raced through the swamp, their names recalling instantly in his mind as he cut across dry marsh and ducked under overhanging branches that were mowed down by the transport ship before they had a chance to still. Dodging the frightened creatures stampeding around him, he looked ahead and realized that he was running out of firm ground fast.

Searching for a way past a large lake, he saw a strange froglike creature crouched low in his path. It seemed to be absorbed with a shell it had just pried open, until it caught sight of Qui-Gon. Startled, the creature rose, its long flat ears dangling from its amphibious head and its eyes, protruding from the top of its head, blinked in confusion, taking in first Qui-Gon’s running form, then the animals about him, and then seeing clearly for the first time the massive shadow behind them.

“Oh, oh!” it muttered, its eyes popping wide with fear.

Qui-Gon broke left past the creature, anxious to get out of the path of the transport, but the strange creature, eyes wide and frantic, had grabbed onto Qui-Gon’s robes.

“Let go!” he snapped, trying in vain to get free.

The transport bore down on them, and in an act of desperation, Qui-Gon threw his body weight into the creature, falling on top of it, feeling the steady buzz of the transport’s engines as it rolled over them. With a loud whine, the massive ship lumbered on, cutting through trees and undergrowth as if they were butter.

When the ship was safely past, Qui-Gon pulled himself out of the mud and drew in a deep, welcome breath. The strange creature rose with him, still clinging to his arm, cloudy water dripping from its flat-billed face. It threw itself on Qui-Gon, hugging him ecstatically.

“Oh, mooie-mooie, I love you,” it warbled, beginning to kiss him.

“Are you brainless?” huffed Qui-Gon, “You almost got us killed!”

The creature looked offended.

“I spek.”

“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent,” said Qui-Gon, having none of it, “Now get out of here!”

He started to move off, looking around uneasily as the high-pitched buzz of STAPs sounded in the distance. The creature hesitated for a moment, then began trailing him.

“No, no, mesa stay…Mesa called Jar Jar Binks; mesa your humble servant.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Qui-Gon, barely glancing at him, looking through the shadows for Obi-wan.

“Oh, but it is! Tis demanded byda Gods, it is!”

Suddenly, two STAPs burst from the mist-shrouded foliage at high speeds, bearing down on a lone figure that was sprinting toward the man and the creature. Qui-Gon pulled free his lightsaber.

“I have no time for this,” he said, pushing the creature away, “Get down.”

Jar Jar turned, seeing the STAPs bearing down on them, eyes going wide all over again.

“Oh, oh, wesa gonna-”

Qui-Gon silenced him by pushing him backward into the mud. Flicking on his lightsaber, he braced himself as Obi-wan and the pursuing STAPs approached. Jar Jar’s head popped up.

“Wesa gonna die!” he screamed.

The battle droids opened fire from their turret cannons just as Obi-wan reached his friend. Blocking the bolts with his lightsaber, Qui-Gon deflected them back into the attack craft. The STAPs exploded into shards of hot metal and fell into the swamp. An exhausted Obi-wan wiped his muddied brown forehead, gasping for breath. Behind them, Jar Jar pulled himself out of the mud and blinked curiously at the second Jedi.

“You saved my again!” he crowed.

“What’s this?” asked Obi-wan, looking at the creature with disdain.

“A local,” replied Qui-Gon, “Let’s go, before more droids show up.”

They turned to go, but not before Jar Jar spoke in an alarmed voice:

“Mure? Mure did you spake?”

Qui-Gon was already moving, Obi-wan a step behind as they picked their way across the swamp. It took only a moment for Jar Jar to catch up with them, his long legs working frantically, his eyes rolling.

“Ex-squeeze me, but de mossest safest place would be Gunga City. Tis where I grew up. Tis a hidden city.”

Qui-Gon brought them to a halt, staring fixedly now at the Gungan.

“A city?” he asked.

Jar Jar nodded eagerly.

“Can you take us there?” asked Qui-Gon.

The Gungan suddenly seemed distraught.

“Ah, on second taut,” he said, his voice warbling, “No, not reely, no.”

“No?”

Qui-Gon took a step forward, his eyes dark. Jar Jar looked as if he wished he could disappear into the swamp completely. His throat worked and his billed mouth opened and closed like a fish’s.

“Tis embarrassing…but…My afrai my’ve been banished. My fergoten…da Bossas do terrible tings to me, terrible tings if mya goen back dare.”

A low, pulsating sound penetrated the terrible whine of the STAPs, rising up through the mist of the swamp and its gloom, growing steadily louder. The Jedi looked at one another. Qui-Gon took another step toward the tall Gungan.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

Jar Jar raised a hand to his ear, answering, “Yah.”

“That is the sound of thousand terrible things coming this way,” said Qui-Gon his voice low and intimidating.

“And when they find us,” added Obi-wan, getting into the thrill of the game, “They will crush us, grind us into tiny pieces and then blast us into oblivion.”

The Gungan was visibly terrified now, looking from Jedi to Jedi, and once back behind him,

“Yousa point is well seen. Dis way,” said Jar Jar, whipping his ears around, nearly whacking Obi-wan in the head, “Hurry.”

As they made their way through the swamp, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan kept their minds open, allowing each part of their environment to mesh with their senses. They walked in silence, the Gungan loping ahead at his flopping gait, the Jedi matching him pace for pace. Turning to the humans again, Jar Jar was surprised to see that the mosquitoes, usually so hungry for human blood, did not affect them.

Curious, he asked, “Yousa diff’rent from das oda biguns, yes?”

His apprentice remaining silent, Qui-Gon chose to answer, “We are not from this planet, if that is what you mean.”

The Gungan shook his head, his ears flapping comically and hitting overhanging branches. Startled, he flailed his hands around, hitting himself in the head before turning around to face the humans again, “Nah, mesa asken if yousa diff’rent from dem; oda tradas mesa see comen here, but deysa bitten by dosa skeetos sames as da Naboo. Yousa diff’rent, mesa tink.”

The older one did not reply, so Jar Jar shrugged and faced forward again, just in time for another tree branch to hit him in the head.

“Ooof!” he cried, falling into the mud, “Ow-owwie!”

He rubbed his head with his hands, pushing himself up and slipping onto his face in the process. Suddenly, a sharp cry of laughter was heard, bouncing eerily off the trees and foliage. On their guard, both Jedi whipped their lightsabers out of their robes, igniting them with a hum of energy and their minds stretched to touch the life around them. Qui-Gon frowned, worry lines apparent on his forehead as he realized he couldn’t read the life signature that had caused the sound; he could feel that it was there, yet could not identify it or its position.

Frightened, Jar Jar backed himself against a kasso tree, forgetting the nasty little detail of the tree being carnivorous. At the tight jerk around his middle, the Gungan let out a panicked shriek, squirming and twisting his way around the living vines wrapping around him. Instantly, the canopy above him came crashing down as a figure clad in brown, black, and green hurtled through the leaves of the tree. The figure, moving too quickly to see clearly, slashed crosswise at the moving vines, severing them above Jar Jar’s head. Still shrieking, the Gungan didn’t realize he had been freed and continued to screech while struggling with his bindings. The stranger sighed, grabbing the Gungan’s head and throwing him away from the tree. The Gungan landed in the soggy ground with a squish.

“Jar Jar!” said the stranger in an admonishing voice, “You know better than to walk into a kasso tree! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

The younger Jedi was astonished to realize the creature’s rescuer was a woman. Qui-Gon merely Hmmphed thoughtfully, and switched off his lightsaber, Obi-wan following his example with reluctance. The woman appeared oblivious to the Jedi and knelt at Jar Jar’s side, placing an arm around him comfortingly, and saying:

“You know better, Jar Jar; just look next time, alright?”

Startled, he looked up into the woman’s face, and shouted, “Al-ya, mesa frend! Mesa no tinkin mesa see-en yous again!”

He stood up quickly, nearly falling headlong into the mud, and wrapped his filthy arms around her, hugging her tightly. The woman seemed to respond in turn, and when Jar Jar released her, she tucked a pair of sticks into her belt, smiling at him.

“It’s been too long, my friend, since I last saw you. Tell me, have you caused much trouble since I’ve been away?”

The Gungan blushed, turning his eyes downward in embarrassment. He mumbled softly:

“Mesa bin banished again.”

“What? Not again, Jar Jar,” moaned the woman, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing it gently.

“I beg your pardon, madam, but who are you?”

Glancing upward at the voice, Alia was startled to find two men staring down at her. Their clothes marked them as Jedi, the older one tall and brown-haired, the younger having a head of reddish-brown and a braid that she knew marked him as a Padawan. She felt a slight rush of warmth when she looked into his crystal blue eyes, and quickly glanced away to hide her reaction.

But it was the older Jedi who made her breath catch in her throat before she was able to force her lungs to continue functioning. Looking into his eyes, she felt her blood tighten for an instant, and a band that had encircled her heart for as long as she could remember loosened slightly. A small shiver of hope danced through her even as she schooled her face to remain expressionless despite her exasperation with her friend. Nodding reassuringly to Jar Jar, she stood from her position.

“Alia Despin,” she said, pronouncing her name as ‘Ah-lee-ah’, “How may I serve thee, Master Jedi?”

She bowed in a mock salute to formality, her cloak trailing in the mud. Qui-Gon could feel his apprentice’s anger, and moved to quell his ire. { Patience, my young Padawan: we may yet need her assistance. }

“I am called Qui-Gon Jinn,” began the Jedi Master.

He stopped, however, when a breeze shifted through the trees and the shadows lifted from her face. Her eyes, a vivid, brilliant blue, stunned him, leaving him breathless.

“This is my apprentice,” Qui-Gon finished, after his moment of hesitation, “Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Those eyes were unreadable to him, yet he felt as if he could. As if he had read them...and very intimately...a long, long time ago. Pointedly turning her back to them, Alia patted Jar Jar comfortingly on the shoulder, taking the pair of sticks from her belt and twirling them in the air. Qui-Gon noted with some amusement that her movements were not unlike the flamboyant elements in his Padawan’s fighting style. Obi-wan, however, was not so amused with his Master’s thoughts and shot a quick glare at him.

Ignoring the byplay between Master and Apprentice, Alia was lost in memory of when Jaris had given her her very first pair of ardeli sticks: she had been perhaps ten, eleven years. Most Dysean children received theirs as soon as they began to walk, but then, she had only recently come to Dysis. Perhaps in their minds, they had seen her as newborn; in their world, she had been. Shaking off the memory of her patient teacher, Alia rolled her shoulders, and with practiced ease, climbed up the tree she had been appraising. Within seconds she had disappeared from sight; Qui-Gon was surprised at the speed with which she had ascended into the trees, but his apprentice was more open with his astonishment.

“What is she, Master?” asked Obi-Wan, unsure of his feelings. She had appeared to fly up the tree-trunk, the sticks in her hands moving in a blur.

Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice, amused, “She is human, Obi-wan. A human with an uncanny ability to scale tall trees.”

“She?” interrupted the local, eyes wide and ears flapping, “Shesa Al-ya, shesa tell you dat already. Shesa good frend of da dotta de da Bossas, and shesa be-en my good frend, too.”

Swiveling his head around, the Gungan placed his hands around his mouth and called loudly, “Yousa comen wid us, Al-ya?”

This time when the woman fell to the ground, her boots made a slight squishing sound as they sank into the sodden dirt. A frown worried Alia's brow as she shook one of them with disdain, then shrugged and hefted a haversack onto her shoulder.

Curious, Jar Jar pawed the bag, saying, “What is datten, Al-ya?”

Annoyed, she slapped his hands lightly, saying sternly, “None of your business, Jar Jar; I have things for Zasa.”

The Gungan had snapped his hands back quickly, sucking on them to lighten the sting, and was now glaring at her with a mixture of hurt, outrage, and fear in his large wet eyes. As she continued to scowl at him, he hung his head, mumbling:

“Mesa sowwy; mesa no doin it again.”

The woman laughed, tossing back her brown hair, and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

“I know, Jar Jar, I know. Besides, some of them are for you as well, you silly Gungan. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, now do you?”

Looking up again, he widened his eyes even more as he said hopefully:

“Yousa be comen wid us to da city?”

“Why else would I have my haversack?” she replied.

Hefting its weight once more, she tightened the leather thongs that held shut the bag’s mouth, then hoisted its straps over her shoulders, and started off.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Author's Notes

Dysean pronounced “Dy-shawn”; of Dysis.

STAP standing for single trooper aerial platform.

Ardeli pronounced “Ar-deh-lee”; climbing sticks native to the planet Dysis where most of the planet is covered in massive forest growth and the natural inhabitants (humans) live in trees.

Kasso pronounced “Kah-soh”; grows to massive heights with natural defenses: off-shooting vines are carnivorous and are attracted to anything that is unlucky enough to fall across its path.


Chapter 3 - A Friendly Visit

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

// Text //[i] denotes mental thought
[i]{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 3 - A Friendly Visit

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear the deep, steady thrum of the Federation transport engines. Glancing at their odd group, Qui-Gon asked, “Much farther?”

Alia shifted her pack’s weight, a hand unconsciously lowering to feel the wood of her climbing hooks. As hard as he found to believe it, she had been an interesting companion, that much Obi-wan would grant her. Somehow she had patience enough to pay attention to the Gungan and manage to ignore the Jedi’s silence. Until now. He watched as her hand froze of its own accord, and she glanced back at him, appearing startled to feel his eyes on her. He was surprised she had sensed his gaze. Perhaps she had some latent Force-ability; probably enough for her sensitive instincts, but not enough to be trained as a Jedi. Her eyes, the intensity of their coloring intriguing him, darted away quickly, and settled instead on the Gungan’s back.

Within moments, they had emerged from a deep stand of swamp grass and thick rushes at the edge of a lake so murky that it was impossible to see anything in the light reflecting off its surface.

“Wesa goen underwater, okey-day?”

The Gungan spoke matter-of-factly, looking back in the direction from which they had come, his long ears flapping with the movement.

“Now I remember why I never wear white to visit,” Alia grumbled to herself, shifting the pack on her shoulders.

Obi-wan glanced at her, his gaze questioning. Alia caught his look.

“White has a tendency to stick when its wet,” she explained impatiently, “I don’t like to flaunt the fact that I’m female every time I visit.”

Her impatience quickly faded into amusement as she watched his cheeks flush slightly as he took in her meaning.

“And besides,” she said, restraining the laughter she felt welling within her as she took pity on him, “Look at that water? Do you think anything that went in white would come out the same? I think not.”

Qui-Gon had been listening to their slight exchange, and couldn’t repress the twinkle in his eyes at her teasing of his Padawan, despite the seriousness of their mission. As she busied herself with her pack, the Jedi looked at each other, extracting portable breathing devices from their utility belts.

“My warning you, Gungans no liken outsiders,” Jar Jar told them, his eyes shifting from one to the other, “So, don’ expect a wurm welcome.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-wan replied dryly, “This hasn’t been our day for warm welcomes.”

The Gungan shrugged, as if to deny all responsibility for what would follow, turned back to the lake, and sprung high in the air, vaulting into a wide double somersault.

“Ay-ay-yah Oo-oo-ooie!”

“Show off,” their female companion grumbled, her eyes shining with mirth as she watched her friend make a spectacle of himself.

Together, she and the Jedi waded in after him. Breathing in deeply, Alia placed her own small palm-sized breathing device in her mouth, submerging herself beneath the murky waters of Lake Paonga.

Downward into the shadows they swam, the humans following the Gungan. He seemed far more at home in the water than the land, his arms and legs moving gracefully with practiced ease. Obi-wan turned his head toward the stranger as they angled deeper into the water, the light from the surface fading behind them. Despite her complaints about wearing her rucksack, it didn’t appear to be hindering her movements in any way. In fact, it seemed that her movements were nearly as graceful as the Gungan’s, if not as fluid. The water was growing colder with each passing minute, and at last, Alia could see the familiar lights of Otoh Gunga, inwardly sighing in relief. A few more minutes, and the cluster of bubbles comprised of locap-grown plasma that formed the city grew closer.

Jar Jar swam directly toward one of the larger bubbles, and both the Jedi and the woman followed behind him; as they reached its surface, Jar Jar and Alia stood on the platform that was just outside, and pushed in. Following their example, first Qui-Gon then Obi-wan moved through the gelatinous membrane, passing through to the other side wet, chilled, and amazed at the bubble’s shielding properties.

“So good be-en home!” sighed Jar Jar, for a moment forgetting the reason why he had to leave, and the reason he had returned. Alia removed her breathing device and shook the water from her eyes, looking up at the sudden sound of her name being called.

“Alia!”

Another Gungan, not bothering to look at the outsiders, rushed through the startled crowds, leaping up the stairs to embrace her friend.

“Ay-yah Alia! So good to see yous, my-a miss’n yousa so muuuuch!”

The Gungan wrapped their arms around Alia, pulling her around in a hug. Qui-Gon watched as his strange companion laughed and hugged the Gungan tighter.

“Zasa,” she said once she’d been let down, “I’ve missed you as well.”

The female Gungan gave her friend a big smile, her jaws stretching far wider then that of a human; so wide that Obi-wan nearly winced at the strain a normal human jaw would’ve felt.

“But,” Alia said sternly, her eyes twinkling, “I have presents that need to be given. And presents always come before hellos, goodbyes, and funerals.”

“Myasa!” Zasa laughed, taking her friend’s hand, and leading her down the platform.

“Hey, yousa! Stoppa dare!”

Alia looked back, startled, at the gruff voice that called behind her. The Jedi and Jar Jar had been surrounded by the Gungan sentinels, the wicked-looking ends of their electropoles forming a sort of cage around them.

“Hey-yo-day-lee, Cap’n Tarpals,” tried Jar Jar, his smile wide and nervous, “Mesa back!”

But the Gungan shook his head.

“No again, Jar Jar,” said the Captain, having none of it, “Yousa go-en to da Bossas. Yousa in big doo-doo dis time.”

Alia watched her friend hang his head, and felt a sudden flash of anger when one of the sentinels stabbed him with an electropole. She tried to reclaim her arm from Zasa’s grip, but the female’s hold simply tightened, and as Jar Jar and the Jedi were led away, she turned angrily to meet her eyes.

“Let me go! I have to help him!”

But her friend shook her head at Alia’s words.

“Bombad, Alia; yousa be know-en da law. Dat Jar Jar brokie da rules, hesa has to go to my fadda. Lookie you, wesa go too. Wesa go dis way.”

With a twist of her head, Zasa led her human friend through the square, slipping in between the other Gungans milling about as easily as if she were an eel, swimming through the crowd with as much grace as a dancer. They passed under arches and around buildings, taking the back way until they reached the High Tower Boardroom. Zasa halted a little ways to the side of the chamber, squeezing her friend’s hand.

“Mesa no go wit you, if yousa go-en to be in dare. I wait for you, okeyday?”

Understanding her friend’s reluctance to break the unwritten rule of sanctity during council session, Alia simply gave her a small smile, catching her in a sudden hug.

“I should never have let him come back,” she said, pulling away from her friend’s scaly arms.

Zasa said nothing in return, and as Alia turned, squaring her shoulders, watched her walk confidently toward the doors of the Boardroom and her nod respectfully to the guards when they stopped her.

“I’m here to plead for Jar Jar Binks, Carsal; let me pass.”

The guard removed his electropole from her path, and she was allowed to enter. At the sound of her arrival, she saw Boss Nass and a few of the Elders turn their heads toward her; Jar Jar also looked in her direction, and she gave him a small, encouraging smile. Of all of them, only the Jedi had not looked at her entrance, and for that, she was oddly grateful; she didn’t want their attention at the moment.

“Yousa cannot bees here,” Boss Nass was saying, making the click-click-clicking sound that showed his irritation, “Dis army of meccaniks up dare is new weesong.”

“The droid army is about to attack the Naboo,” explained Qui-Gon, holding his ground, “We have to warn them.”

“Wesa no like da Naboo,” said Nass, “And dey no like uss-en. Da Naboo tinken dey so smartay. Dey tink dey brains so big!”

Obi-wan couldn’t believe that these people would sit by and allow their planet to be invaded. He spoke up, hoping to appeal to their own survival instinct.

“One the droids take control of the surface, they will take control of you,” he said quietly, willing them to believe.

“Mesa no tink so. Dey not know of uss-en.”

The remaining members of the council nodded in agreement, muttering approval of Boss Nass’s wisdom.

“You and the Naboo form a symbiant circle,” Obi-wan insisted, not willing to give in, “What happens to one of you will affect the other, you must understand this.”

Alia looked at the younger Jedi in surprise, before watching her friend’s father shake his head firmly.

“Wesa no care-en, about da Naboo.”

“Then speed us on our way,” said Qui-Gon, his voice steady and sure, casually passing a hand before the eyes of the Gungan leader: there was no further use in arguing with him.

The Gungan nodded.

“Wesa gonna speed yous away.”

Alia brought her head up sharply at Nass’s submission to the Jedi’s request. Narrowing her eyes, she centered herself, reaching in and out…Obi-wan looked around with piercing eyes as he felt ripples in the Force, a sign of it being used by someone other than his Master. Severing the connection quickly, Alia felt only a little guilt in what she’d done; she had the information she needed. Qui-Gon, however, didn’t break in his manipulation of Boss Nass.

“We could use a transport,” he said, passing his hand again.

“Wesa gonna give you una bongo.”

Both Alia and Jar Jar looked up at the head Gungan in surprise; for Alia, there was suspicion as well. Both shared a look of confusion between them.

“Da speediest way to da Naboo tis go-en through da planet core. Now, go.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-wan bowed in respect.

“Thank you for your help, we leave in peace.”

As they turned however, Obi-wan whispered.

“Master, what’s a bongo?”

His Master glanced at Alia, having known when she entered, and noted the alarm written on her face.

“A transport, I hope.”

The woman refused to meet his eyes, turning to look instead at the council, and fix them with a hard stare. Qui-Gon sighed, and as the Jedi moved away from the officials, they caught sight of Jar Jar wearing wrist binders, standing forlornly to one side.

“Deysa setten yousa up,” warned Jar Jar as they passed him, “Go-en through the planet core…bad bombin. Ah, any hep here would be hot.”

He gave the Jedi what he thought was a winning smile.

“Master, we’re short on time,” said Obi-wan. He didn’t want to waste time with this creature; they had to get on with their mission.

“We’ll need a navigator to get us through the planet’s core,” replied Qui-Gon, his eyes thoughtful, “This Gungan might be of help.”

His Padawan held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. Qui-Gon turned from him and walked back to Boss Nass, passing Alia, who was looking at him with startled eyes.

“What is to become of Jar Jar Binks, here?”

“Hesa to be…pune-ished,” said Boss Nass, smiling vindictively, “Pounded unto death, dis one.”

From behind him, Qui-Gon could hear Jar Jar moan loudly. There were mutterings around the room. Both Obi-wan and Alia looked on in shock. She had known Boss Nass wouldn’t be happy to see Jar Jar, but she hadn’t thought he’d sentence him to death. / What did he do? / she wondered, her mind working quickly through the arguments she’d use once the Jedi were gone. There was no way she’d allow Jar Jar to be killed.

“I saved his life,” replied Qui-Gon, locking eyes once more with the large Gungan, “Your gods demand that his life belongs to me now.”

“Binks? Yousa, have-en a lifeplay with this-en his-en?”

Jar Jar nodded as Alia sighed in relief. Boss Nass, however, looked as if he’d eaten a plate of goba fish and suddenly been told it was kaadu droppings. He frowned horribly as he gestured to the Jedi.

“Begone wit him.”

As the wrist binders were unlocked, falling to the ground, Jar Jar rubbed his hands.

“Count me outta dis one. Better dead here, den dead in da core,” he said, before suddenly slapping himself in the head, “Egads! Wotta mesa say-en?”

As her friend followed the Jedi out of the room, the doors closing behind them, Alia began moving toward the center platform, bending a knee in respect before fixing Boss Nass with a glare.

“With all due respect, your honor, that was not good form. It might not be wise to kill off two Jedi and bring the rest to your doorstep.”

“Dis-en be none of your bisiness, Alia. If-en deysa reach da Naboo, den da gods be with dem. If not, den da big fish have a full belly.”

Alia was suddenly angry with him, though she was careful to hide her feelings behind her eyes.

“It is my business if my friend is killed along with them. Please, at least give them a better ship than a bongo. You know as well as I that there are other ships they could use that would be safer.”

“Dis-en none of yous concern!”

The head Gungan suddenly exploded, angry that she had dared question his judgment.

“Yousa might-en be a frend of Zasa, but yousa still an outsider! If yousa want-en to come back, yousa liss-en and say nutten back!”

Shocked beyond words, Alia stared at him. His body was heaving with emotion and his eyes were nearly crossing in his anger. Alia was stung by the ultimatum he had flung at her. Straightening her back, she slowly stood, a few council members muttering in quiet voices about her disrespect. She ignored their jibes as her eyes sharpened with her own anger. No one ordered her around. No one.

“Then I’m afraid I must take my leave of your city, your honor,” she bowed, her body rigid with fury, “I do believe there is a transport being made ready, and if I hurry, I may still catch it.”

She turned on her heel and walked away from him, feeling his growing alarm as he called her name. Without turning around, she threw her response over her shoulder.

“If it is safe for them, then it is safe for me.”

Furious, Alia stomped out the Boardroom doors, so oblivious in her rage that she missed Zasa coming out of the shadows, and nearly collided with her.

“Argh!” she exploded, throwing up her hands, “Your father makes me so mad, Zasa! Why won’t he ever change?”

But her friend said nothing, merely holding out her bag. Alia noticed that it seemed lighter, and took it, weighing it in her hand. She was right. Alia looked at Zasa with a questioning gaze.

“I heard,” was Zasa’s reply, “And mesa take-en out dos gifts yousa say yousa had. I pack-en some food, and watersacks.”

Touched, Alia nodded, her anger slowly dissolving. If she was to be traveling with Jar Jar, who knew what world they’d end up on. She sure wasn’t going to bring him back to Naboo if all that awaited him was death. The watersacks would help him adjust to nearly any temperature.

“Thank you, Zasa,” she said, pulling her friend into a hug.

The female Gungan held her tightly, before letting her go and nodding to her left.

“Dat way be a shortcut to da bongos. Don’t be worried, Alia; I talk with my fadda, I show him yousa spek true.”

Alia gave her one final hug, before strapping on the bag and setting off at a run down the passageways. Zasa shook her head at her friend’s strange behavior. Casting her eyes toward the council doors, she sighed and squared her shoulders. Boss Nass was not going to easy to convince.

Running through the shadows cast by the plasma lamps, she struggled to keep her breathing steady as her heart followed her footsteps. Finally, she saw them descending into the hangar bay, and she hurried her pace, though it was no longer hell-bent on reaching her destination.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she called out, “Wait!”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

As one the Jedi turned around at the cry from behind them. Qui-Gon noted, with a little surprise, that it was the woman who had arrived with them to the Gungan city. Alia, he remembered, was her name. She ran to them now, panting slightly as she descended from the upper level.

“I’m coming with you,” she said, slightly breathless from exertion, her skin slightly flushed. Looking at Jar Jar, she repeated, “I’m coming with you.”

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon replied, “I cannot have you in my protection, young Alia. I do not have the time or the patience.”

She bristled a little at his words, straightening her shoulders back with pride even as she averted her eyes, gesturing slightly to her friend.

“You will have far less to worry about with me along, Master Jedi; at least, less than you will have with Jar Jar.”

The Gungan in question let out a small noise of half-indignation, half-agreement. The Jedi, however, merely tilted his head to one side, saying in his deep voice:

“And how do I know you are trustworthy if you will not look me in the eye?”

She seemed to catch her breath between her teeth, before replying:

“A Jedi should not need to see a person’s eyes to see into their heart. Tell me, Jedi, am I evil?”

Qui-Gon cocked his head to the side slightly, studying her.

“Perhaps not, yet what else must I think but that you have something to hide? I do not have the time to banter words with a child, nor the patience to discover your no doubt juvenile secrets.”

“You won't trick me into giving away more than what you need to know by stamping on my pride. Jar Jar is my friend, I don't trust you keep him safe, and I'm going with you.”

He smiled inwardly at her refusal to be baited, but answered:

“That is not true; you do trust us.”

The girl tossed her head in exasperation, turning her eyes to look at the ship they were about to enter in derision.

“But the other two are. Now, get into the bongo.”

Chuckling slightly, Qui-Gon merely shook his head, and despite Obi-wan’s expression, followed her lead.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Alia felt a sense of accomplishment as she sat between Jar Jar and the younger Jedi. When her fingers had accidentally brushed against his thigh and he glared at her in indignation, she had rolled her eyes to hide her embarrassment, saying, “If you haven’t already noticed, Jar Jar isn’t exactly the calmest creature you’d expect to meet. It’s either me, or a paranoid Gungan flinging his arms and ears everywhere.”

Obi-wan arched an eyebrow in reply, then looked back at the controls to contain the sudden urge to laugh at her exasperated expression.

“Yousa don’ reelly mean dat, do you Alia?” asked the Gungan in question, his ears drooping and his eyes full of hurt.

The girl wrapped an arm around her scaly friend’s shoulders, and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You know I love you, you silly creature,” she said affectionately, adding in an amused voice, “But you aren’t the bravest Gungan in the lake.”

“Mya know,” he said, hanging his head.

She turned his head to her, looking him in the eye. Qui-Gon could see the amphibious creature freeze, and tried to remember what her eyes looked like. They had been blue, he recalled; a startling blue that seemed familiar. Shaking his head, he resolved to ask Obi-wan later.

“That’s why I’m here,” Alia said tenderly, patting Jar Jar’s scaly hand and pulling slightly on one of his ears.

Qui-Gon could see the Gungan’s expression suddenly melt, and Jar Jar smiled, turning to look again out the window.

“Oh, oh, goba fish! Big big goba fish!”

The older Jedi winced and Obi-wan glowered as the Gungan tried to climb into Alia’s lap to get away from the window despite the restraining belt he wore. A pair of lips suddenly twitched in amusement when Alia was heard to mutter, “This is going to be a long ride.”

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Author's Notes

Locap plant Though Naboo lacks a molten core, its porous structure is permeated by a highly energized, naturally occurring plasma. The roots of the locap plant pierce through the planet's honeycombed crust, and metabolize the plasma, distilling and naturally stabilizing it in the digestive process. The locap plant contains this safe form of plasma in buds located on the tips of its stalks, which the Gungans then harvest as a power source. So noted from StarWars.com.


Chapter 4 - Escape

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

// Text //[i] denotes mental thought
[i]{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 4 - Escape

As soon as the lights of Otoh Gunga had disappeared from sight, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan looked at Jar Jar.

“Wot?” asked the Gungan, terrified of the world outside the bongo’s hull, “Wotta yousa lookin at me?”

“You’re the navigator, Jar Jar,” his friend answered patiently, staring at the view in front of them. She’d never been this far down before, “So navigate.”

Jar Jar shook his head as he looked around, mumbling to himself, “Dis’n nutsy. Oh, goba fish!”

“Why were you banished, Jar Jar?” asked Obi-wan, curious despite himself.

“Yes,” said Alia, turning in her seat to look hard at her friend, “I’d like to hear that as well.”

“It’s a long-o tell-o,” answered Jar Jar, slumping his shoulders slightly in embarrassment, “But uh, a small part would be mesa…ah….clumsy.”

“You were banished because you were clumsy?”

“Uh, yousa might-en be sayen dat.”

The bongo turned downward, moving through the open stretch of water between two coral shelves. Unseen by Alia, the Gungan, or the Jedi, a dark shape detached itself from the larger outcropping, using its powerful muscles to aid in tracking them. Meanwhile, Jar Jar squirmed under Alia’s piercing eyes.

“Mesa cause mebbe one oo two-ee itty bitty axident-ees, eh?” he said, fidgeting, “You’d say, boom da gasser, crash der Bosses’ heyblibber, den banished.”

Alia groaned, sinking her head into her hands. When she looked up, it was to Obi-wan staring quizzically at her reaction.

“Trust me,” she said, shaking her head, “You do not want to know.”

Before Obi-wan could retort that yes, he did want to know, there was a loud thump as something struck the bongo, causing it to lurch to one side.

“Oh-oh!” said Jar Jar looking back, his eyes popping, “Big gooba fish! Huuge-o ting!”

Alia could only hold on, praying silently as they were drawn back farther into the opee sea killer’s mouth. Obi-wan struggled with the controls, giving the engines as much power as possible, but the grip of the sea killer’s tongue was too strong. With a sudden rush, the bongo was released, and the little ship shot forward.

“Wesa free!” cried the Gungan happily.

But a quick look backward revealed that they were lucky for a different reason. The sea killer had been caught in the jaws of a much larger sea creature. The long, eel-like hunter was crunching the sea killer into tiny bits as the bongo sped away.

“There’s always a bigger fish,” remarked Qui-Gon offhandedly. The result was Alia turning her head back to him, incredulous, and he found himself giving her a smile, enigmatic smile, which to his surprise, she returned.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Above the blue-green planet, a figure in dark robes was being transmitted into a holoprojector on the Trade Federation command ship.

“The invasion is on schedule, my lord,” said Nute Gunray, bowing his head.

The black-cloaked figure, shimmering on the projector, nodded his head slightly.

“I have the Senate bogged down in procedure,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless, “They will have no choice but to accept your control of the system.”

“The Queen has great faith that the Senate will side with her,” remarked Nute Gunray, his hesitation apparent even to the distant eyes of the Sith Lord.

“Queen Amidala is young and naïve,” he sneered, “You will find controlling her will not be difficult.”

“Yes, my lord,” Nute replied, bowing his head once more. As the transmission ended and the holoprojection of the Sith faded, Rune Haako looked incredulous at his superior.

“You didn’t tell him about the missing Jedi,” he accused

“No need to report that until we have something to report,” replied the Viceroy, terrified at what the Sith Lord might do if he found out that the Jedi were alive and on the planet he was supposed to be controlling.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

The blades of the Gungan ship spun, as they propelled downward into the chasms that led to the planet core.

“Where wesa go-en?” asked Jar Jar, somewhat recovered from the sando aqua monster scare.

“Don’t worry,” replied Qui-Gon confidently, “The Force will guide us.”

“Ooh, maxi big, da Force,” scoffed Jar Jar, “Well dat smell stinkawhiff.”

All at once the controls began to blink and fade. Taking his concentration from where they were going, Obi-wan glanced down at the readout screen, his annoyance rising as he discovered the source of their problem.

“We’re losing power.”

“Oh, no,” Jar Jar moaned, putting his head in his hands, terrified of the horrors that might be lurking in the shadows.

“Look what you did,” hissed Alia, jabbing him in the stomach as Obi-wan set them down at the bottom of a cave.

“Don’t worry; we’re not in trouble, yet,” Qui-Gon said reassuringly, confident in the guidance of the Force.

“Wot yet?” Jar Jar retorted as his hands thumped onto his lap, his eyes swerving around, “Monsters out dare, leakin in here, all sinkin and no power? When-a yousa tinken wesa in twubble!”

Sparks flew suddenly as Obi-wan rerouted the power circuit, bypassing the main coupling, and the controls blinked back on.

“Power’s back,” he said.

The exterior lighting came on suddenly, illuminating the long, sharp teeth of a colo claw fish that had been sleeping nearby. Opening its eyes, it snarled at them, its eel-like scales glinting iridescent in the water-fractured light.

“Right about now,” Alia whispered, as Obi-wan gunned the engines and Jar Jar convulsed in his seat, shrieking into her ears, nearly ripping through his restraining bolt in his panic as the underwater predator gave chase.

They sped through the caves, the sea monster gaining on them until Alia suddenly pulled Obi-wan toward her, causing the controls in his hands to swerve to the right. As the younger Jedi shook her off, he realized where she had taken them as a creature even larger than their pursuer loomed before them, the decibel level of the sando aqua monster’s roar causing the little ship to tremble. Trying to compensate for the amount of thrust, he pulled back hard on the controls, forcing the bongo upward, just managing to clear the mouth of the water predator, whose jaws clamped down hard on the tail of the claw fish.

Following the trail of their inadvertent savior’s spine, Obi-wan sent the ship farther downward, leveling them out as they passed through yet another part of the cavernous environment. He cast a glare in Alia’s direction, which she promptly ignored, the shock of their escape still running through her system. Jar Jar didn’t seem to be holding up too well, either, as he continued to shriek and spasm despite their escape.

“Just relax,” Qui-Gon said calmly, invoking the Force as he placed a hand upon Jar Jar’s shoulder, sending the Gungan into a deep state of relaxation, and promptly knocking him unconscious.

“I think you over-did it,” remarked Obi-wan, still feeling a little resentment at the girl’s sudden taking of the controls.

As Qui-Gon was about to place a hand on Alia’s shoulder as well, she grabbed his fingers tightly in her own, turning back to stare at him with wide, shaking eyes.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, the adrenaline still pumping in her veins.

A jolt of electricity passed between them as she snatched his hand, and almost without realizing it, Qui-Gon reversed their positions, and caught her fingers in his own grip. She looked back at him uncertainly for a long moment, before he realized what he was doing and immediately released her. As she turned back to the front of the ship, he was wracked by the familiarity he sensed in her. She knew him, and he knew her, but he couldn’t remember how. Shaking his head to himself, he caught his Padawan’s questioning glance.

{ Master, are you alright? } Something had disturbed him, and Obi-wan was certain that it had something to do with the girl they had brought along.

{It is nothing, Padawan. I will speak of it later. } Now was not the time to explain his misgivings, not when they had a mission to complete. If they didn’t reach the Naboo in time…Qui-Gon did not care to think of what would happen to the young Queen.

Once more they sped toward the planet’s core, this time with the Gungan half-sedated, allowing Qui-Gon an ample amount of time to ponder over his observations of the girl. Since their meeting he had been aware of the Force’s presence within her, and it puzzled him. He had never seen such a concentration of power in an individual before, and was curious as to what it meant. No, not curious; the feeling was more than that, if only he could just identify what it was. But it evaded his mind, and its teasing was frustrating. Focusing his mind, he stared at the back of her head, remembering the near-electric color of her eyes.

He had wanted to know what those eyes looked like, but now, he thought that perhaps he had discovered the reason for her dodging of his questions back in Otoh Gunga, and became conscious of the fact that she had known she’d be familiar to him. The insight surprised him, and looking at her now, he felt that there was more to her than met the eye. Snapping back to reality, he realized that his fixation with her was making his apprentice uncomfortable, and sent a thought of reassurance along their bond.

In time the little group found themselves passing through the porous structure of the core, coming out the other side in relatively one piece, though the integrity of the protective hydrostatic fields was partially compromised. Flipping a switch to send more power to the fields, Obi-wan hoped it wasn’t long before they reached the surface, allowing them to continue their mission and be rid of his disturbing seatmate as soon as possible.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Up the terraced steps leading from the central plaza lay the Palace of Theed, a work of art built by thousands of Nubian hands, and erected as a monument to peace. With wide windows and large hallways, and the hundreds of hand-carven, hand-painted, and hand-woven gifts of the people, to many it was held as a symbol of the Naboo culture and future legacy. But its wide windows and large hallways were no longer a place of solace and beauty; their splendor and magnificence had become a mere prison to those trapped inside. Her face expressionless, Queen Amidala and her attendants were being led through the Great Hall, its artwork and beauty seeming out of place to the prisoners. Their steps echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings, the gentle staccato doing nothing to hide the clanking of their armed escorts.

The Queen’s eyes, however, were not looking at the tribute of her people, nor were her ears deafened by the footsteps of the droids; instead, her dark eyes were trained on the back of Governor Bibble, who was arguing loudly to the Neimoidian who dared invade her world.

“Viceroy, I ask you point-blank,” he blustered, “How do you plan to explain this invasion of yours to the Senate?”

With growing hatred behind her expressionless eyes, the Queen watched as the Neimoidian smiled with satisfaction.

“The Queen and I will sign a treaty that will legitimize our occupation of this planet. I have assurances that it will be ratified by the Senate.”

“I will not cooperate,” said the stoic figure in gold and black.

A brief flicker of annoyance passed through Nute Gunray’s eyes, but the Viceroy soon shook off his unease.

“Now, now, Your Highness,” he purred, “In time the suffering of your people will change your mind.”

He turned away, beckoning to one of the battle droids.

“Commander,” he ordered languidly, “Process them.”

Its metal head nodding in response, droid OOM-9 signaled to one of its subordinates.

“Sergeant,” said OOM-9, its metallic voice empty and grating, “Take them to camp Four.”

“Roger, roger.”

Her eyes lowered to hide her helpless anger, a heavy depression settled over the heart of the young Queen as she and her companions were led from the sunlit walls of the Palace, the echoes of their footsteps serving as a hollow reminder that no time of peace could last forever.

The prisoners were taken across the plaza, empty now of all but the most persistent inhabitants, who spread their wings and took flight at their approach. Single droid platforms hummed this way and that across their path, shadows flitting along the walls as the droid sergeant turned the procession down a quiet byway, marching indifferent to the fate that was certain for the officials in his care.

Just above them, two Jedi, a woman, and a hapless Gungan were making their way to the prisoners. Making sure that Jar Jar was keeping up, Alia kept her breathing even and quiet as she followed the Jedi, wondering what on Naboo they were planning on doing, though the way they held their hands to their belts did much to confirm her suspicions. Suddenly they stopped, and peeking over the edge, Alia, fingering the sticks at her belt, watched as a woman who had to be the Queen and her entourage turned into the empty street. Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-wan and nodded slightly. Without warning they were over the edge and dropping to the ground, landing with grace and fearless as they immediately began cutting apart the armed escort.

Without hesitation Alia followed them, with Jar Jar following her and getting his foot stuck in the process, the result being that he hung in space for a few moments before landing with a graceless thud. Eyeing the droid nearest where she stood, Alia whipped out her climbing sticks, catching the hook around the head in a swift killing blow, only to be jarred rudely as the metal casing of the battle droid clinked against the force of the blow.

A trace of panic passed through her, but she quickly forced it down as she took stock of what she had. Bringing the curved portion of the climbing stick forward with astonishing speed, she brought her foot out and slammed it into the droid’s neck, severing the command-connection formed by the Central Control Computer chip housed in its brain. Returning to the fight, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the Jedi swung their blades around with deadly accuracy, often cutting two droids at a time in half. With renewed vigor and confidence, she swung the sticks in her hands again and again, bringing the droids closer to her and swiping their heads from their humanoid shoulders. Firing their range weapons proved useless as she danced around the blasts, scissoring her legs up and around the flying energy to snake around their exposed necks.

Tingles of the Force ran through her blood as she fought, the sounds of metal scraping stone confirming that the Jedi were not relying on their strength of swordplay alone. Within a few short minutes, the droids were reduced to piles of smoking scrap metal or lying headless on the ground. Switching off his lightsaber, Qui-Gon kept the blade in his hand as he glanced around the alleyway.

“We should leave this street, You Highness,” he said, acting as if he hadn’t just fought off a dozen battle droids.

The Naboo took his advice once the shock of being freed had worn off. Once they had been led from the open street, into the shelter offered by an alley between two buildings, the older Jedi turned to face the Queen.

“We are ambassadors from the Supreme Chancellor,” began the Jedi.

“Your negotiations seemed to have failed, Ambassador,” observed Sio Bibble with a snort.

“The negotiations never took place,” replied Qui-Gon patiently, before turning his eyes again to the Queen, “It is urgent that we make contact with the Republic.”

“They’ve knocked out all our communications,” said the dark-skinned chief of security.

“Do you have transports?” asked Qui-Gon, never missing a beat, taking the setback in stride.

“In the main hangar,” said the Naboo captain, motioning with his arm, “This way.”

As Captain Panaka was speaking to the Jedi Master, Obi-wan fell behind to where Alia was standing with Jar Jar.

“That was an interesting display of skill you demonstrated for us,” he murmured in a low voice.

“Shut your trap,” said Alia with uncharacteristic crudeness and ferocity.

He looked at her, a smug smile on his face.

“Your weapons are impractical.”

“And since when did I pretend to be practical?” she flung back at him, embarrassed enough that she’d forgotten that droids weren’t as easily dispatched with a natural resource like wood as organics.

Giving the hooks one last twirl, she slid them back into the sheaths strapped to her back, and reached into her boot. As she bent down, Obi-wan was surprised to see her retrieve a blaster. Its shiny chrome surface glinted silver in the sunlight. Her sharp eyes caught the interest he paid to her weapon.

“It’s a pistol,” she explained, holding it up and out to him as she stood.

“I can see that!” he replied, angry at her mocking tone. He took the blaster anyway, passing a hand along the barrel. He looked up at her, surprise and slight admiration in his voice, “You’ve made some adjustments.”

“Now, you know it’s impossible, not to mention illegal, to modify Westar blasters,” she answered, her eyes twinkling slightly, “Unless you happen to know a guy who knows a guy who knows a few tricks…”

He laughed at her expression, surprising both her and himself. He didn’t usually laugh with someone who wasn’t a Jedi; rarely did anyone else understand his humor. Controlling himself, he gave the pistol back to her, despite his desire to sit down with it and discover its added secrets. Alia hadn’t missed his eager expression at the sight of her transformed Westar-34, and wondered why he shut down so quickly. His laughter had been nice; while it wasn’t full-blown, it had been warm, and his slight smile had sent tiny shivers along the small of her back. Respecting his privacy, however, she decided to lighten the slightly depressing mood that had fallen.

“I suppose it meets your expectations?” she said, slipping her fingers around the handle.

Dismissing him from her mind, she pulled up the hand holding the blaster, rotating it as she measured the sight, squinting slightly as she did so. Looking up, she found him staring at her, an unfathomable expression on his face. Flustered, she managed to cover her discomfort with false bravado.

“Let’s go, Jedi-boy; I think we’re the rear.”

His eyes snapped back into focus, and she almost regretted seeing their color change from that intense crystal blue-green to a just as intriguing shade of grey. He grabbed her free arm and pulled her with him. Offended, she wrenched her arm free, smiling sweetly at his glare.

“You need both hands for your lightsaber, don’t you?” she said, switching on the energy cell that powered her blaster. / Yep; kind of need that. /

They quickly made their way back up to their group, the Captain leading them through a series of connected buildings that dominated one end of a broad causeway, each one domed and cavernous, the central structure warded by arched entrances and low, flat-walled buildings. Despite their haste, Alia was able to admire the workmanship that must’ve gone into their creation; they were works of art as well as sound in structure. Battle droids were stationed everywhere, weapons held at the ready, but the Captain was able to find an unguarded approach down a narrow corridor between adjoining buildings. At a side door to the main hangar, Captain Panaka brought the group to a halt. / Damnit, what now? / Alia wasn’t tired, but she could see the difficult time the governor appeared to be having. Not a surprise, considering the weight of the formal robes he was wearing; no small feat to be able to carry that amount of cloth and keep up with two fast-paced Jedi.

She watched as Captain Panaka nudged open the door, and saw him peer inside, the older Jedi glancing over his head. A handful of Naboo ships were grouped together at the center of the hangar, sleek gleaming transports with their noses facing a wide opening in the far wall.

“There’re too many of them,” said Panaka, taking in the number of the battle droids positioned across the hangar interior.

“That won’t be a problem,” replied Qui-Gon confidently, turning to face the young woman dressed in black, “Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us.”

She shook her head, the black feathers of her headdress rustling softly. Holding his gaze, she replied:

“Thank you, Ambassador, but my place is with my people.”

“They will kill you if you stay,” Qui-Gon responded, locking eyes with her.

“They wouldn’t dare!” exclaimed Governor Bibble.

Alia looked at him and wondered at his having acquired such a political position, yet somehow retain his innocence.

“They need her to sign a treaty, to make this invasion of theirs legal,” Panaka added, “They can’t afford to kill her.”

/ Ah, so that’s it, then. /

“There is something else behind all this, Your Highness,” pressed Qui-Gon, “There’s no logic in the Federation’s move here. My feelings tell me they will destroy you.”

His words carried a greater magnitude than he probably realized, Alia thought, looking around. A shadow of real alarm had fallen across the governor’s face as the Jedi Master finished.

“Perhaps you should reconsider, Your Highness,” he said slowly, “Our only hope is for the Senate to side with us. Senator Palpatine will need your help.”

Alia was surprised to see the Queen look away from the governor, her chief of security, and the Jedi, turning toward the handmaidens who were pressed close about her.

“Either choice presents great danger,” she said slowly, looking into the eyes of each attendant, “To us all.”

Both Qui-Gon and Obi-wan glanced at each other, puzzled. What was the Queen looking for? Alia admired the young woman’s compassion, and watched as the handmaidens looked at one another, their faces barely visible within the confines of their orange-hooded robes. Finally, one spoke, “We are brave, Your Highness.”

Alarms continued to sound, and Alia’s foot began to twitch. / Let’s go already, before we’re found and fried. /

“If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must be now,” said Qui-Gon, his patience growing thin.

“Then I will plead our case to the Senate,” was the Queen’s reply before glancing at Sio Bibble. “Be careful, Governor.”

The Jedi moved through the side door and into the hangar, leading the way for Jar Jar, Alia, and the Naboo. Obi-wan noticed that the woman stayed close to the Gungan, and a thought strayed across his mind, too quick for him to grasp. Captain Panaka moved next to them, his dark face intense.

“We’ll need to free those pilots,” he said, gesturing to where a group of Naboo were being held captive by a squad of battle droids. Qui-Gon noted that the insignia on their uniforms marked them as a mix of guards, mechanics, pilots, and even medics.

“I’ll take care of it,” Obi-wan declared, and veered off toward the Naboo captives.

Alia felt a sudden sense of panic as she realized finally the danger they were in. Glancing quickly from side to side, she switched the hand carrying the pistol, leaving her right arm free at her side. / I can fire nearly as well with my left, thanks to Matis. / she thought, beginning to make slight twirling motions inside her sleeve. / I can’t let them be killed before I have a chance to talk with them. / She was rationalizing, and she knew it. / I’ll deal with my reasons later. / she thought, releasing the safety on her blaster; in the folds of her sleeve, her fingers curled into a circle.

Qui-Gon and the rest continued on, despite the tingling the Jedi Master felt in the back of his mind. Someone was using the Force, far differently than he had ever encountered before. Whoever they were, it didn’t appear to be harmful, and they were twenty meters from the Queen’s transport when the nearest of the battle droids challenged them.

“Halt.”

Its mechanical voice grated on Alia’s nerves; she had never liked many droids: their lack of humanity unnerved her.

“I am ambassador to the Supreme Chancellor,” said Qui-Gon patiently, “I’m taking these people to Coruscant.”

“Where are you taking them?”

/ This is why I don’t like droids. /

“To Coruscant.”

The droid seemed to mull this over.

“Coruscant, uh, that doesn’t compute, uh, wait, um you’re under arrest.”

The droid was scrap metal in seconds, dissected by Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. More droids rushed to stop the Jedi, but Alia and Panaka’s men had begun firing, giving cover to the young Queen and her handmaidens as they rushed up the ramp and into the ship. On the other side of the hangar, Obi-wan had vaulted into the air, knocking down a group of droids in his descent. Swinging his blue blade in a circle around his head, he slashed at the firing battle droids.

“Go!” he yelled to the captives, bringing the blade up to block a blaster bolt.

They didn’t need to be told twice; as Alia continued firing, she watched as some of the captives ran toward the hangar doors, and others raced toward their ship. Suddenly a searing pain passed through her shoulder, causing her to cry out. Qui-Gon whipped his head around in time to see her clutch her right shoulder with the hand holding onto a silver pistol. Her head twisted upward, and she looked around at the droids beginning to surround them. She switched hands, pressing her right hand to her shoulder, despite the awkward feeling. The other rose and fired: Qui-Gon’s eyes followed the shot as it penetrated the droid’s shielding and reduced it to smoldering metal. Blaster fire whizzing by his head brought his attention back to the moment.

Pulling her hand from her chest, Alia was startled to find that it was red with blood. She stood, transfixed, until she heard the unmistakable sound of rolling balls, and looked up to find that two new droids had entered the fight. She had never seen models like these. They were spherical in shape, attached to spindly legs that emerged after they ceased to roll, reminding her of destroyer droids. For a second neither moved, then Alia saw the running captives and reacted, firing at the droids, her shots bouncing off their charged shielding. She began to panic, and quickly increased the power voltage, firing again. One of the droids reacted, tilting its mechanical head backward, and lobbed what appeared to be a giant ball of solid particles. Narrowing her eyes, Alia set her targeting sight and fired, shattering the particle-ball and scattering its fragments, and its cargo, around the hangar, and toward the royal transport.

Hidden from the naked eye, hundreds of tiny, membrane-bound organisms washed over the woman’s body, only one managing to latch onto a piece of skin that had been partially burned away, and attach itself to the inside of her wound, the combination of blood and tissue stimulating its latent programming.

With the remaining captives now behind her, she raised her blaster’s power cell to maximum and fired again. At the whine that sounded in the opposite direction, Obi-wan looked up from helping defend his Master and saw that two droids had entered from what had been a side door. One of them had already been reduced to a pile of sparking parts, and the other was soon blown to pieces. Sharing a glance with the Jedi, Alia holstered her pistol in her boot, and ran to the ship, pressing her left hand to her shoulder wound. Unnoticed, the fingers of her red right hand began to curl, repeating their motions from before, until they shaped into a circle.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X\r\n\r\n


Chapter 5 - Questions and Answers, Part I

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

// Text // denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X\r\n\r\n

Chapter 5 - Questions and Answers, Part I

“Damnit!”

The large, expansive room Alia was currently in was fast becoming more of a hindrance than a help. Another blast rocked the small Naboo cruiser, sending the tall brunette stumbling into a wall. A flash of pain caused her to swear again, first in Rodian, then in Huttese. One of the handmaidens looked on in shock at the foul-sounding words coming from her mouth. Ignoring the looks she was receiving, Alia squeezed her eyes shut as tight as humanly possible while pressing her hand to the wound on her shoulder. The bloody graze that would normally have been just an annoyance was now full-blown agony from being repeatedly thrown against the wall. Yet another blast caused the ship to rock, and beneath her feet Alia felt the tremors of the ship as it tried to evade the gun blasts from the Federation ships.

A shudder made the room shake violently, and suddenly she felt an overpowering sensation of nausea as the ship spiraled away past the blockade, the world falling into darkness as her head connected solidly with the floor.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Someone was near. Blue eyes sprang open as instinct propelled her knee to come up and hit the person hard, somewhere in the lower regions she thought, before her legs whipped out, connecting with a solid thwack, and she flipped herself into a defensive crouch.

Horror and amusement bubbled up inside her as she saw who had tried to waken her. Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan and dueler extraordinaire, was now sprawled on the floor, having gotten the wind knocked out of him. The moment passed, and with a flip of his own, he was back on his feet, glaring at her so hard she was surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust on the spot. A weak smile hovered on Alia's lips before she was struck by a sudden thought.

“Jar Jar!”

She was fast, but Obi-wan was faster, and stood blocking the doorframe with his body. Without even glancing up she shoved him aside again, and was racing through the corridors before he could turn around. Feeling seriously irritated, he had only been trying to get her to the infirmary, Obi-wan blew out a frustrated breath, mentally repeated the Jedi Code twice, then set off to find that stupid woman. Qui-Gon had placed responsibility for her on him, and by the Force, he would get her to the medical bay if he had to truss her up and toss her over his shoulder! Growling under his breath, the Jedi Padawan started off down the passageway.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“And you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Al-ya, mesa okey-day. Wass dat red icky-icky goo on yousa clothes?”

Alia stared down at her shoulder blankly, before suppressing another curse. The blood from her wound had dried, but when she grabbed the Gungan in a tight hug, the damn thing must’ve opened. She ground her teeth in frustration; she had been so relieved to find her friend unhurt that for a moment the pain had gone, but now it was back with a vengeance.

“Perhaps now she’ll consent to be examined in the infirmary.”

Resisting the urge to grind her teeth again, Alia turned around to see Obi-wan glaring at her. His annoyance caused her back to bristle in defiance, and her chin to lift insolently.

“Yes, she will, now that she’s found someone to escort her who’s not laid out on the floor,” Alia replied acerbically.

His nostrils actually flared at her acid remark. In a perverse way, Alia was enjoying pushing the Jedi’s buttons, and vowed to add to his irritation with her anyway she could. At least until he loosened up a bit.

“Very well, then. You,” he directed to Jar Jar, “Take her to the medical bay, and I will attend to matters that actually concern me.”

“You’re very touchy, Padawan Kenobi,” Alia remarked as she and Jar Jar walked away, “I’m afraid that stick up your ass isn’t helping much.”

Outraged, Obi-wan turned around to confront her, but the hallway was empty. Breathing in deep, calming breaths, he struggled to force his anger away. He would control this. He would be calm. He would not think of ways to strangle, maim, or otherwise discomfort Alia Despin. Gradually, he felt the fires begin to fade as he gave up the irritating emotions to the Force. Again breathing in deeply, he made his way to the Audience Chamber, slipping into the room unnoticed by all except Qui-Gon. His Master raised an inquiring eyebrow, to which Obi-wan responded with a nod. A feeling of approval suddenly coursed along their bond, and as the dark-skinned Chief of Security began to praise the resourcefulness of the surviving droid, Obi-wan was able to forget about the source of his earlier irritation.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Jar Jar,” Alia said impatiently, “I’m fine; really. Look, we’re right outside the med bay, you can watch me go through the doors.”

“But why yousa no wantin’ mesa go wit you?”

/ Because I refuse to follow anyone’s orders except mine. / she thought silently, knowing how petulant she sounded, even in her own head.

“Look, Jar Jar, you’ve done what the Jedi wanted you to do: he said ‘take her to the medical bay’, and here we are.”

A look of annoyance suddenly settled over the Gungan’s face.

“Mesa no-care ‘bout dat Jedi! Mesa care ‘bout yousa!” he said indignantly.

A lump suddenly formed in Alia’s throat as she realized how deeply Jar Jar cared for her; wrapping her arms around him, she gave her silly friend a tight, affectionate squeeze.

“Thank you, Jar Jar,” she replied once they separated, “You are a true friend. Please, trust me on this one: go see how the Queen’s doing for me, and we’ll talk later, alright?”

Her friend nodded reluctantly, turned to go, turned around again, opened his mouth, shut it again, then once more turned to go. { Go, Jar Jar. she Suggested gently, smiling inwardly at the sound he made when his legs began moving before his brain could comprehend. Chuckling to herself, she turned to enter the medical bay. The door opened suddenly just as she was about to activate the switch, causing her to smack into the blond-haired man coming out.

“Oh, sorry,” Alia said sheepishly, “Didn’t see you there.”

The man smiled at her, fixing his slightly askew glasses.

“Don't worry,” he replied, “Beautiful women always bump into me on Thursdays. Today is Thursday, so you have helped me fill my quota. Thank you.”

Alia looked at him, nonplussed. A snort escaped from her throat, then a laugh, then a groan as the tremors of her laughter caused her wound to burn with pain.

“Here, now,” the man said concernedly, “What is the matter?”

Giving him a rueful smile, Alia removed the wide strap of her pack that had been concealing her wound. His eyes widening, the man, clearly a medic, quickly ushered her into the medical bay, telling her to sit and wait for him to get what he needed, that he’d be with her in a moment.

Left alone for the moment, Alia looked around, noticing the various people hanging about. A pair of guards seemed to be getting treatment for some burns, while another appeared to be having his leg examined. One of the other medics in the room, their uniforms blue, saw her by herself, and came over.

“Aie, miss, are ye here for tha’?” he asked, indicating the wound on her shoulder.

“Yes,” she found herself saying, “Though usually I’d just as soon take care of it myself. But I bumped into one of you folks, so I thought the least I could do was let him stick a hyponeedle in me.”

The medic laughed; he couldn’t be more than a year or so older than her. It was also entirely possible that he was actually her age.

“I see you have set the lady in your sights, Nhat,” came a voice from her right. She looked around to see the man she had bumped into coming toward them, a tray in one hand, “You must beware of Nhat Korbi, tasi. He is infamous for breaking hearts.”

A sound of dismay came from her companion. Alia smiled as she saw the mischievous glint in the blond man’s eyes.

“Well,” she replied archly, “I guess I’ll just have to find you when my heart needs some patching. Though I have to say, I usually like to know the guy’s name first.”

A blush crept up into his face as he answered, “Navras. Doctor Jorda Navras; I am the head of medical personnel on this ship.”

“Great! Then at least I’d be banging the boss!”

Nhat burst out laughing at the expression on his superior’s face, causing one of the guards being treated for burns to look up at them in confusion. He liked this girl, Nhat did. He liked anyone who managed to ruffle Jorda’s taciturn feathers. Add the fact that she was beautiful, and he was sure he was feeling the first signs of infatuation. What made him really like her, though, was the sense that she wouldn’t be cruel or unfeeling on purpose. At last though, he thought she decided to take pity on the poor doctor. She craned her head around, looking at the room.

“So, where do you want me?”

Apparently he thought wrong. The girl grinned wickedly at the brilliant red staining Jorda’s face. The head physician mock-glared at her and thrust the tray of instruments into Nhat’s waiting hands. He scowled at the wide smile on his subordinate’s face, then looked once more at the impish grin on the girl’s lips.

“Very well, then,” scowled the doctor, “I have other patients to see, and as I believe your wound to be superficial, I think I will leave you in the hands of your new friend.”

The pair grinned at each other as they watched him go. The girl turned to him.

“We haven’t been formally introduced, and I’d like to know the name of the one sticking the needle in my shoulder. My name’s Alia,” she said, holding out a hand, which he took.

“Nhat Korbi, medical trainee,” he replied.

“Wonderful! I get to be poked and prodded by a schoolboy!”

“Well,” said Nhat, laughing, “Le’s move ye over ta where this schoolboy can stitch ye, and ge’ this over with.”

She smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling.

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“’Tis a graze from a blast, nuthin’ more,” the red-haired young medic trainee assured her, his accent betraying his humble origins, “Ye must be a free-bleeder, what with all this blood here an’ the like. An’ ye’ve got some bad bruisin’ here, but the bacta’ll set tha right. Don’ ye be worried now, I’ll stitch it up, an’ in a week or so, won’t be nuthin’ but a mem’ry.”

Alia nodded absently, her mind elsewhere.

“Right,” said the trainee, applying the bacta to her wound, wrapping the bandage gently but firmly around her shoulder. He looked her over with a critical eye, and then said decisively, “You’ll do. Now, no heavy liftin’, no carryin’, an’ no luggin’ that bag o’ duracrete ye call a pack. Ifn’ yer not careful ‘nuf that graze’ll break open an’ it’ll be hurtin’ summat awful. Ifn’ that happens, ye see the doctor quicklike, ay?”

Again she nodded.

“Thank you, Nhat,” she murmured softly.

“Right,” he said again, patting her bandaged shoulder lightly, “Doc’s got some supplies I got ta inventory. I’ll be seein’ ye aroun’ tha ship mos’ like, so I’ll see ye then.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “And I’ll introduce you to Jar Jar.”

“Never met a real Gungan, a’fore. But if he’s a friend a’ yours, I’m sure he’ll be a trip.”

“You have no idea,” Alia answered before heading toward the exit, the door shutting automatically once she had cleared the sensors.

Turning left, she walked in the direction of the main Audience Chamber, not paying attention to where her feet took her, simply letting them wander. She and Nhat had been in the medical bay when the announcement from the Queen came over the comm channel that they were heading toward the Outer Rim, to a planet called Tatooine. They would be there in a few Standard hours, and everyone should consider themselves in hostile territory. She felt a tingling in her arms, now, as she passed through the corridors, wandering aimlessly. Gradually, as Alia drifted toward the bow of the ship, she became aware of a current flowing around her, unseen yet visible to her. It Felt calm, at peace, and all at once out of place aboard the ship; following the current took her past the cockpit, past the galley, down to one of the supposedly empty cargo holds. The people inside the room, however, told her that it was most definitely not empty.

She hesitated at the scene before her. Both Jedi were sitting cross-legged on the floor, their cloaks folded neatly at their sides, their lightsabers resting atop the cloaks. The sense of calm that had drawn her to this part of the ship was intoxicating, like a balm to her troubled heart, causing her to take a step forward. When that sense of calm persisted, it bolstered her wavering certainty, allowing her the strength of will to move farther into the room, to seat herself beside them after removing her footwear, and to begin her own meditation.

Stirrings in the Force entered his mind, and with a mental query Qui-Gon was able discern that it was the girl, Alia, who was causing the changes. Breaking away from his communion with the Force, he opened his eyes to see what it was she needed. Sensing his Master’s mental absence, Obi-wan also opened his eyes, and began to feel the faint stirrings of annoyance well inside him. Why was she mimicking their meditative positions? Was it to mock them?

He had had enough of her willful eccentricities, and was about to prod her none-too-gently with the Force when Qui-Gon gave him a Look. Irritated, and feeling as though he had been chastised like a novitiate instead of an Apprentice, Obi-wan stood up, walking out of the room and down the hallway toward the engine room. Even though he already knew the condition of the hyperdrive, perhaps another look would bring a fresh insight on how to reroute the energy from the power influx conduit around the main breaker into a narrower secondary medium. And the boring make-work would keep his mind busy from thoughts of that irritating woman.

Qui-Gon, meanwhile, was examining his uninvited travel companion, his eyes traveling over features that were familiar to him and yet different, as if they had been softened or tempered. He studied the style of her clothing, and deduced that she must have spent at least some time in the Beroe Sector. While her trousers and synth-vin jacket could have been manufactured on any industrialized world, the boots at her side were undeniably handmade, with designs he had seen and admired long ago, when he had visited the Forest-World of Dysis en route to broker a truce between the Lyrisians and Diinari on the neighboring planet of Taras.

That had been a long time ago, and as he scrutinized the details of her face, he was transported back again to that world, with its ancient yet vibrant connection to the Force. The smells of the port city of Aibelen, the sound of the wind through the trees at sunset, how the light of the setting sun and rising moons reflected off the glass of the Temple Dome. He remembered vaguely that the people had seemed to worship a female Deity, but couldn’t recall for the life of him Her name.

All this passed through his mind in seconds, and with no small amount of amusement he watched her eyes open and widen in shock.

“How long have you been staring at me?” she demanded, a touch of irritation and annoyance in her voice. He noticed, however, that she hadn’t jumped up in alarm once becoming aware of his scrutiny, yet neither had she seemed surprised that he had been interested enough to look.

“Not long,” he replied, a smile quirking at the edges of his lips.

She returned the smile beneath lowered eyelids.

“Why do you keep your eyes hidden?” he asked, curious. Their few moments of shared meditation had been a unique experience for him: she used the Force, yet she was not Jedi. He had not sensed any signs of ill-intent around her and knew instinctively that she would not harm them or the Queen. Checking the sharpness of his interest, he continued, “They are unique; do your people have such coloring on your world?”

Alia looked at him, a thousand emotions running through her at his questions. Her people? Which people? What to say? What to hide? She gave him another smile, reaching over to grasp her boots.

“There used to be more of us, but…” she answered sadly, “The others…there was a sickness that made them too weak. They died.”

“A plague?” he asked.

His question, spoken gently, was given a bitter laugh in return.

“I guess you could call it that,” she said, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tightened the straps of her boots.

“Did all of them die?”

“As far as I know, only I and another girl survived. We…had stowed away on a passing ship. The captain found us and took us to her world.”

Qui-Gon was intrigued.

“Are you still in contact with this girl?”

Sighing, Alia gave the strap one final tug before folding her legs beneath her once more. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she stared off into space before answering.

“A little. Every now and then she writes home, not too big with details.”

“Then she has left your…home?”

Alia began to trace the designs on one of her boots.

“Why?”

/ A simple question shouldn’t be so difficult to answer! / Alia thought to herself.

“Why are you so curious?” she countered defensively, her eyes flickering with doubt and suspicion.

At a loss, Qui-Gon took himself to task for pushing her too hard. There was a voice in his head that was asking that same question: just why was he so interested in this other girl? A whisper from his heart, however, something that he had always believed was his strongest tie to the Force, quieted the doubts in his head.

“I do not know,” he replied truthfully, sensing that honesty was the only answer this girl would accept, “I sense your inner conflict, but I do not mean to discomfort you. I am familiar with someone who carries eyes similar to yours, yet I cannot place them. Perhaps if you tell me more, I will be able to find the answer.”

She stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock. Struggling to regain any sense left to her, Alia snapped her jaw shut and drew a knee upward to rest the point of her elbow on its surface, cupping her chin with a thoughtful look on her face. After a few moments of silently wrapping the peace of the Force around herself, the brunette finally seemed to come to a decision.

“Living with the Captain’s people was…difficult,” she said at last, “Their ways are…not for outsiders to know. For a long time we were outsiders, before the Captain grew angry and threatened to leave if they didn’t accept us. She loved us, I think, in her own way. Before we were adopted by her Clan, she taught us how to…take care of ourselves if someone decided to play too rough.”

Listening to her voice was not a difficult thing, Qui-Gon was coming to realize. The way she spoke, the tones of her voice, were rich and sweet at the same time. Qui-Gon understood that she was setting him up for something, some event that was dependent on her past.

“There were other things she taught us, things that you don’t need to worry about, but she…the other girl,” Alia stopped, unable to express herself the way she wanted to, the way she wanted him to understand, “She...she began to change. We began to change.”

She looked at him then, with an intensity that startled him, before continuing.

“Dysis has a…complex culture. People-women, actually-who show signs of Possession, are taken before the High Priestess at the Great Temple of Kharan, and are…tested, to see if they have the Potential to Serve Her. Because of our people, we were…special.”

Here Alia glanced at the older Jedi, unsure if she was confusing him or boring him. When he signaled her to continue, though, she complied after breathing in deeply.

“The ones truly Possessed are Force-sensitive,” she remarked, “Some Potentials are as strong as any Jedi, but Dysean disciplines are very different.”

The girl spoke with a kind of candid honesty that was at once refreshing and disturbing. There was no tact in her statements, no art that he could see that was designed to ensnare him.

“What would you know about Jedi disciplines?”

The question seemed to fluster her for a moment.

“I…The other girl, Cadis, she knew about them. She would tell me the things she rem-read.”

Recalling something she had said before, Qui-Gon asked, “This girl, Cadis, why did she leave?”

“She left because she couldn’t conform to the Dysean ways; she couldn’t be what they wanted her to be. In one of her letters, she wrote that it was because she felt something…missing, something she had to find.”

“Did she tell you what she was looking for?”

“I-I can’t…,” she said, her distress written plainly upon her face, “I can’t tell you. I-I don’t know if she’d want me to tell you.”

Though his curiosity was raging, Qui-Gon quelled the urge to use the Force to find the answer. Instinct and something else told him that any aggressive move on his part would only lead to silencing her, something he had no wish to do. Nearly biting his tongue, Qui-Gon sought the Force to suppress his frustration. Moments passed between them in silence as he sensed the conflict within her. His patience was rewarded when she looked up with determination in her eyes.

“A Jedi,” she spoke quietly, “She’s looking for one of the Jedi.”

“If that is the case then why has she not come to Coruscant?” the Jedi asked with confusion in his voice and his eyes.

Tearing her eyes away from the Jedi Master, Alia spoke again, her voice soft, “Because she’s afraid of what she might find.”

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Tasi meaning “fair, beautiful woman.”

Comm channel shortened version of “communications channel,” or an intercom.

Synth-vin stands for “synthetic vinyl"; I know, if you think about it it's ridiculous, but give me some artistic license, here!

Lyrisians pronounced “Leer-iss-ee-ahn-s.”

Diinari pronounced “Dih-nah-ree.”

Taras pronounced “Ter-ahs.”

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Chapter 6 - Questions and Answers, Part II

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

// Text //[i] denotes mental thought
[i]{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 6 - Questions and Answers, Part II

“Afraid?” Qui-Gon asked, confused and suspicious, “What reason would she have to be afraid?”

“She’s not…afraid of them...precisely,” said Alia slowly, her eyes distant as she hugged her knees to her chest, “More hesitant, I’d guess.”

She sighed, causing him to Look and see how tired her body really was. The discovery dismayed him, that he had been either unable or unwilling to sense her fatigue because of his curiosity.

“We do not need to continue,” he began, but stopped abruptly when she shook her head.

“I appreciate the offer, but…I think I need your advice on this. We…Cadis and I…were supposed to meet on Helia Prime a week ago, before I came to Naboo, but things happened, so now we’re set for Manaan next month. I think whatever you’d have to say would do a lot for her.”

A niggling sense of doubt caused him to ask aloud, “Why?”

Qui-Gon watched as she blushed, pink staining her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Her face was composed, however, when she raised her eyes to meet his.

“Because you’re a Jedi, of course!” she said, in a tone that distinctly told him he should have figured that out for himself.

Smiling inwardly, Qui-Gon raised his hands as if to ward off a blow.

“Forgive my stupidity, then. What is it you wish me to advise you on?”

Bringing her lower lip between her teeth, Alia thought in silence for a moment.

“This…Jedi,” she began hesitantly, still not sure if it would be better if she said nothing, “He’s connected to her, in a way that…in a way that he shouldn’t be.”

She chanced a quick glance at the Jedi Master’s face, her courage bolstered by the innocent curiosity she sensed as she continued.

“A long time ago, he came to our home, our real home, and…something happened. I can’t explain it; I don’t remember it very well. But it had something to do with him and…someone else. She-she didn’t like to talk about it, the only other person besides me she’d talk to was our brother Jaris, and even then we didn’t tell him everything,” Alia explained, breathing in and out deeply to maintain her calm as her memories came rushing back, “Whatever it was…it hurt her badly, so badly. Our-our people shared a bond with each other. A kind of…psychic bond. With them gone, it’s as if there’s a piece of our souls that’s missing, like there’s a hole where someone we loved so deeply used to be.”

Feeling a sense of already-been as he listened to her, a painful tightness started to form in Qui-Gon's chest, his thoughts turning inward as he began to remember things that were painful and belonged in the past. A slow, creeping sensation began to unfurl within his heart as he remembered, in a swift, vicious moment, the place in his heart where Xanatos had once lived. Yes, he knew something of the closeness one could have with another, of the depth of a bond so great being ripped away in an instant, and its terrible aftermath.

Suddenly saddened, Qui-Gon realized that while his grief for his former Padawan had been terrible enough by itself, the girl before him had had to deal with the loss of her entire people, perhaps her entire race. The repercussions must have been devastating for her, for one so young.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said softly, managing to infuse as much understanding and gentleness as he could without making it seem insincere or feigned, “I, too, have lost someone very close to me in the manner of which you speak.”

She looked at him, and he was perplexed at the strange expression in her vivid eyes: a gratifying sense of thanks, an opposing streak of stubborn pride, a terrible wisdom of experience at too young an age, and an impression of knowing that disturbed him. As if she knew just what, or who, he had been thinking of.

“Thank you,” she said at last, before continuing, as if nothing had happened, “I think-I think she senses that he was somehow connected to what happened to us, but…but that she’s afraid of compromising his position as a Jedi.”

“But why?” Qui-Gon persisted, “You have not made that clear: what is their relationship that she would wish to find this Jedi yet be afraid of success?”

“They are…closely connected,” she said quietly, her eyes distant, “Very closely.”

Sensing that she would say no more on the subject, Qui-Gon gave up his line of questioning, and chose another.

“Very well, then,” he said, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs to find a more comfortable position, “What is it you would have me say?”

“If she should come anyway, despite her fear,” replied Alia, her heart in her throat as she stared back at him, her eyes growing more brilliant and clear with the intensity of her gaze, “If there is a chance at all for her to be with him, if only for a little while.”

Taking a moment to digest her request, Qui-Gon spoke carefully.

“This is a weighty decision,” he said at last, looking her straight in the eye, “Not to be made lightly. I will have to meditate before I can give you an answer.”

“That’s fine,” she answered, sounding relieved. He noticed that as the intensity of her eyes faded back to their normal brilliance, the concentration of her Force-signature also faded.

“Since we have met, Alia, I have sensed that you are not all you appear to be.” At the wary look in her eye, he chose his words carefully. “You are Force-sensitive, and are an active wielder of the Force, yet I know you are not a Jedi. You have told me that you were taught to use the Force by a High Priestess, yet nothing in the Jedi Archives says anything about another Order using the Force the way that has been attributed to Jedi.

“You are a unique individual, Alia, both by birth and by discipline. If it is possible, I would like for you to share with the Council what you have shared with me. About the Potentials on Dysis and the circumstances regarding Cadis.”

A look of stunned surprise took hold of her, one she was unable to break free from for a full three minutes. When Alia could speak again, however, her voice, at least, did not betray the shock he knew her to be feeling.

“I-I suppose that would be f-fine.”

Alia was proud of the fact that her voice shook only a little, so slight that he didn’t seem to catch it. Sensing the occupied nature of her thoughts, Qui-Gon sent a questioning thread along his bond with his absent Padawan. The answering thread reassured him: Obi-wan, after becoming bored with the engine room, had left to sit with the Queen in his absence.

“Is it always like that?”

Her voice was sudden after the silence, and it startled him, though he did not show it. He could not, however, disguise his confusion at her question. It was beginning to annoy him, actually, how easily this girl seemed to be able to confuse him.

“Pardon?”

“Speaking to the G...to the Force,” she explained, curious. It was something Alia had always wondered. “Is it always like that? So peaceful and calm?”

“For the most part, I would say yes. To seek the Force, one is most successful when they are calm, their thinking rational. But I was not seeking the Force just now, nor speaking to it, as you put it. I was sensing Obi-wan.”

A strangeness entered her eyes at his words, but it disappeared so quickly that if he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he doubted whether he would have seen it. The guilty flush causing her cheeks to tinge pink at the mention of his apprentice, however, was much more amusing at the moment.

“You seem to take great pleasure in tormenting my Padawan,” he noted, his eyes twinkling.

Alia started visibly at his correct interpretation of the blush staining her cheeks, and flashed him a guilty smile.

“He reminds me of one of my brothers. He was the First-Son as well as the First-Born, and was always a little stuck-up. My other brother, Jhyntris, and I nearly drove him insane one winter, our pranks were so terrifying,” she said, smiling widely and laughing at the all-too-many memories of poor Tarvis' chagrined face.

Her pleasure, and the look of sweetness in her eyes, as she spoke of her family, warmed Qui-Gon's heart. A fleeting sadness touched him for a moment, as the memory of a pair of eyes, so similar to the girl’s, resurfaced. He had seen a look of such tenderness, full of such sweetness, once upon a time, though it was beyond him to recall it. Sometimes, he thought grumpily, the Force could be a bitch.

“Your family,” he said, turning the direction of his thoughts, “Where are they?”

The look of bemused surprise that crossed her face confused him for a moment: it was a simple enough question. Until he remembered, and silently took himself to task for being so insensitive. A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as Alia correctly read the chagrined look on his face.

“Well, my first family is here,” she said, tapping a finger lightly to her heart, “My second family is on Dysis. It’s one of the planets in the-”

“The Beroe Sector,” Qui-Gon interrupted, smiling at her reaction, “Yes, I know of it. I visited the Forest-World once, many years ago.”

Alia’s eyes, though not happy, brightened considerably at these words.

“Really?” she asked, surprised and pleased, “Where did you land?”

“I believe the port city was called Aibelen, though my stay was only for a few hours.”

“Aibelen? I’ve only been there once. Matis always used to land in Dharshara, but I guess that could be because Destra has their own shipyard there.”

“It was my belief that Aibelen was used as my… point of contact,” he said carefully, “Because of its…blind eye to certain travelers.”

Alia looked at him for a moment, then smiled like a child whose Birthing Day had come early.

“You must’ve been going to Taras!” she declared loudly, her eyes sparkling with interest, “You must have been; Aibelen stopped being so secretive just over ten years ago, but back then, with the war going on…oh, were you a part of the peacekeeping group Chancellor Venor sent to make sure the Diinari didn’t break the truce?”

When Qui-Gon answered in the affirmative, Alia gave a small squeal of excitement, and settled herself more comfortably as she began what the Jedi Master was beginning to recognize of as a similar version of his own style of a gentle yet thorough interrogation.

A few more years of training and she’d be a formidable match for Mace, he thought wryly. She had many questions, some of which he couldn’t answer, but just as she was about to ask another, a call came over the intercom that the Jedi were needed in the cockpit. A quick thought to Obi-wan, and Qui-Gon knew what was going on.

“We are nearing Tatooine,” he explained to Alia as he rose from his seat on the floor, holding out a hand to help her up.

Chuckling at him while refusing the courteous gesture, Alia rose to her feet as gracefully as he had, giving him a small, sincere smile.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she said, her eyes light and cheerful despite the serious danger they were all in. For a time, that seriousness had been pushed aside, and had yet to return to shadow to her heart.

They exited the room together, and were about to go their separate ways when Alia was stopped by the expression in the Jedi Master’s eyes.

“Indeed it does,” he said softly, giving her a small, gentle smile that was enough to make her heart race before he turned and walked down the corridor, leaving her to find just out what had happened.

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Author's Notes

Cadis derived from Cadi, which is Welsh and means “pure.”

Helia Prime based off of Helion Prime from The Chronicles of Riddick, if you missed it.

Already-been is basically déjà vu, but I didn’t think French would sit well in a universe without a France. If this is too confusing, however, let me know, and I’ll change it.

Aibelen is one of the cities on Dysis, and though it may sound or look similar to Ibelin, Sir Godfrey’s (also played by Liam) estate in Kingdom of Heaven, it wasn’t intentional. I actually had a basis for the name Aibelen: Ai has been derived from the Egyptian Iah, which means “moon”, whereas Belen is Greek and means “arrow,” so by stringing them together you get Aibelen, or “Moon-arrow”, or the grander version of “City of the Arrow of the Moon.” Take your pick.

Chancellor Venor I have researched the office of Supreme Chancellor, and they are supposed to have no more than 2 four-year elected terms (obviously not the case for Palpatine), therefore Finis Valorum or even his predecessor Kalpana couldn’t have been in power at the time Qui-Gon went to Dysis, and from there Taras. By further research, I’ve continued Lucas’ tradition of naming characters in such a way (Finis Valorum is Latin for ‘the end of values’) by calling this character Caelum Venor, as in “seeker of the heavens.”


Chapter 7 - Pieces on the Board

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 7 - Pieces on the Board

Closer to the cockpit than his Master, Obi-wan beat the older man by a few seconds. When Qui-Gon did enter the room, his Padawan at once noticed the distant look in his eyes, and was about to ask him about it when the Jedi Master sent him a reassuring look, accompanied by a quick quirk of the lips. Rolling his eyes, Obi-wan turned back to the console.

“That’s it,” said the pilot, relief and trepidation evident in his voice, “Tatooine.”

“There’s a settlement,” remarked Obi-wan, his eyes scanning the datascreen.

“Land near the outskirts, we don’t want to attract attention.”

And with a quick turn, the older Jedi was gone.

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“Al-ya! Al-yaaaa!”

The wailing cry was the only warning before a massive weight hit her from behind.

“J-Jar Jar?” she gasped, the air having been knocked out of her.

“No go!” the Gungan wailed, wrapping his arms around her as he cried, “No make mesa go! Me no wanna go to dat bad place!”

“Air! Air becoming an issue!” Alia replied weakly, her voice hoarse and wheezy from lack of oxygen, “Jar Jar let go!”

Struggling to breathe, Alia failed to notice one of the Queen’s handmaidens approach. Slowly Jar Jar’s long arms relinquished their hold on his friend, who promptly bent over in an effort to relieve the sudden bout of dizziness that swept through her. The oxygen rushing back to her lungs, Alia took in several deep breaths to clear her lightheadedness before looking up.

“Sapheia leukei, basilatris,” she said, giving the handmaiden a quirky smile, “My thanks.” Be blessed in wisdom, handmaiden.

The handmaiden inclined her head, averting her eyes. Bemused, Alia shrugged her shoulders before looking back to Jar Jar, who was wringing his hands. She smiled gently at her friend.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, her vivid eyes gentle, “Now, what’s the problem?”

“Dat Jedi say wesa need some stuffs fwam dat place! Hesa say mesa go wit him! Me no wanna, Al-ya! No let dem make mesa go!”

“Jar Jar, if Master Jinn or Padawan Kenobi told you you’re needed, then they need you.”

The look of dismay on his face was enough to evaporate any remaining resentment she might have felt at almost being made into an Alia-sandwich composed of one side hysterical Gungan and one side metallic flooring.

“Look, who told you to go into the city?” Alia asked patiently, “Master Jinn or his Padawan?”

Somehow, despite his height and unmistakably alien features, Jar Jar managed a credible impersonation of a small school-boy who doesn’t want to admit the truth, even scuffing a thick foot and digging one of his toes into the floor.

“Da old one,” was his reluctant reply.

Attention centered on her friend, Alia nevertheless caught the faint look of amusement that flew across the handmaiden’s face and shot the younger woman a quick smile before answering Jar Jar, missing her involuntary shiver at Alia’s quick glance.

“I trust him,” she said quietly, reaching up to place a hand on her friend’s face, her brilliant eyes gazing directly at the Gungan, “I feel it in my heart, Jar Jar. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her face hidden at the moment, the handmaiden felt free to study the blue-eyed woman before her as she interacted with the Gungan. Curious, and unable to quell the urge, the handmaiden spoke, her voice quiet and soft.

“You give your trust too easily to a stranger.”

Breaking eye contact with her friend, Alia gave him a quick hug before sending him down toward the main area of the ship. As she watched his retreating figure, Alia slid a glance at the handmaiden, noticing now the way the younger woman shivered at her gaze. Frowning at the slight hurt that accompanied the realization, Alia turned back to watch Jar Jar disappear at the turn in the corridor.

“Perhaps you and your Queen trust too little.”

The words were spoken just as quietly, but Alia thought she must have hit a nerve as the handmaiden’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

“I’m Alia.”

There. A peace offering.

“I know.”

The reply was short and curt, punctuated by the swirl of the handmaiden’s robes as she turned to leave. Disappointed, Alia turned to return to the cargo hold when she heard the younger woman’s faint reply.

“I’m Padmé.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Despite the fact that it wasn’t quite midday and there were vital parts that were needed, Qui-Gon was quite ready to put Tatooine behind them. He had good reason: millions of them, as a matter of fact. And all of them were microscopic particles of glass that rhymed with “bland” and “tanned”… both were apt terms for the environment. Sand. Miles and miles of wasteland desert, the only hint of civilization a smuggler’s haven directly in front of them. He sighed, mulling over the words he had last spoken to his Padawan as he began the trek toward Mos Espa.

/ ‘Be wary...I sense a disturbance in the Force.’[i] Yes, but just what sort of disturbance, hmmm? Anything in particular? Or any-ONE? /

“Wait!”

A smile stretching across his lips before he had a chance to realize it, Qui-Gon turned around, noting that his Gungan companion had turned too quickly and was now picking himself up from the sand.

“I’m beginning to fear this is to be the pattern for every conversation we are to have, Alia Despin,” he said loudly, smile still in place as he turned.

She had obviously been running to catch up with them, another stitch in the pattern, he noted with amusement, but had slowed her pace to a prim walk at his teasing words.

“I just wanted to give you something before you left,” Alia answered, nose in the air. She held out a bulky package, obviously wrapped by hand, which he took with questioning eyes.

“They’re water-pouches,” she explained, to which the Gungan responded with a whooping call. Rrriipp! The two humans looked on, one stunned into fascinated horror and the other hard pressed to restrain her laughter, as Jar Jar spread the contents of the pouch over the length of his arms and neck, smearing it over and over until his skin fairly shone in the twin suns’ glare.

“If you’re going to take him into danger, the least you can do is make sure his skin doesn’t dry out too much,” Qui-Gon heard Alia say, sensing both her seriousness and worry beneath her teasing manner.

“If that is all you ask I believe I can accommodate your friend to your satisfaction,” he answered in the same tone, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A similar smile appeared on Alia’s face, and a strange quality entered her eyes.

“I know you can,” she said softly before turning back to the ship, “I know you will.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Eyes troubled as he watched Qui-Gon smile at the stranger, Obi-wan resolutely turned his back on them, steering away from the annoyance and desperation that was welling inside him as he climbed back up the ramp of the ship. His face was a blank mask as he strode through the interior of the ship, ignorant to the stares of the various personnel around him. As he turned into the cargo hold, seating himself gracefully into a meditative position, he was still not-thinking about them.

/ Force, what is wrong with me? What is it about her that threatens me, what is it that makes me feel as if she is some kind of rival? / he wondered, willing himself to relax, to be calm and at peace.

Gradually, his anger and annoyance began to fade and he was bathed in the cool, familiar touch of the Force. As his thinking became more organized, however, the questions in his heart became much more difficult.

/ Anger, annoyance to the point of nearly using my powers to exact petty reprisal, jealousy….these are not the way of the Jedi, to be ruled by emotions. How can I call myself Qui-Gon’s apprentice if I cannot control my emotions as I have been taught?/

A lump formed in his throat at the thought of shaming his Master, of seeing that flash of disappointment in Qui-Gon’s eyes when Alia was sitting with them in meditation and he had been about to Force-push her in a moment of irritation. Obi-wan never wanted to see that flash again.

/ Somehow she is a threat to me. /

The thought was an exasperating one, yet it was also accompanied by a strange tightening in his chest, leading to an unevenness of breath in his lungs. He didn’t want her to be an enemy, Obi-wan realized suddenly; he truly did not. And the emotions surrounding that thought he ignored as best he could, breaking off from his trance to take another look at the hyperdrive. And no, he wasn’t denying anything at all.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Unseen blackness spun and whirled around him, cloaking him in its sweet intoxication. He smiled from beneath his hood as he looked out at the glittering city. Everything was falling into place perfectly.

He was not one to act quickly; it had taken years to train his apprentice, and now was the perfect time to test that training. Lifting his head slightly, he sent an order; within seconds, Maul was waiting at his side. Turning, he spoke to his apprentice:

“What have you discovered?”

“They are in the Outer Rim, my lord; Tatooine was the planet that received the communications signal.”

His master was silent, staring at the glowing metropolis that would be the center of his empire, if his patience did not fail him.

“Tatooine is sparsely populated,” his apprentice continued, “If the trace was correct, I will find them quickly, Master.”

“Move against the Jedi first; you will then have little difficulty in taking the Queen back to Naboo, where she will sign the treaty.”

Darth Maul looked out at the thousands upon thousands of lights that made up Coruscant, the planet of a city. He pulled back his lips in a silent snarl at the thought of the Jedi Temple that stood not far from their current position. Looking back to his master, he was filled with the hate that had been his sustenance, the nourishment that fed him strength in his training.

“At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi,” he said, his passion and malice chilled to match the cold hatred in his eyes, “At last we will have our revenge.”

The Sith known as Darth Sidious smiled in the night.

“You have been well-trained, my young apprentice. They will be no match for you.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Her fingers twitched, and for an insane, surreal moment, Eirtaé seriously considered annoyance as a justification of murder. / Lady Innin, anything to stop that tapping! / If the stranger didn’t stop, there was going to be blood on the walls. And it wouldn’t be Eirtaé’s.

“Perhaps Padawan Kenobi might have something for you to do, Lady Alia. No doubt another mind would bring fresh insight and see things we might ourselves have missed in our haste.”

Beneath the flame-colored hood of her dress, Eirtaé blessed her fellow Handmaiden and pseudo-Queen a thousand times for her mild suggestion, mentally kissing her feet in thanks. The woman, Alia, gave a sudden laugh, however, smiling widely at the handmaidens and the seated decoy.

“That eager to get rid of me, are you?” she said in a wry tone, chuckling as she continued, “I don’t blame you. Jaris used to say being locked in a room with me when I was bored was a fate worse than death. And that was when I was sick with norosema and all I would do was moan and gripe and complain.”

She was laughing and yet, something in her strange, frighteningly blue eyes caught Eirtaé like an insect in a spider’s web. Something filled with pain and regret. The handmaiden once again had cause to bless Sabé as she spoke again, asking Eirtaé’s question for her.

“Is Jaris a friend?” the decoy Queen asked cautiously.

“He’s my brother.” The woman’s eyes softened, and though they were still strange and disconcerting, they no longer frightened Eirtaé. How could she be frightened when the obvious love the stranger, Alia, felt about her brother was so visible? For a few moments there was silence as Alia seemed to wander, her eyes growing distant before coming back to reality. Eirtaé watched as with a shake of her head the stranger spared them another smile before asking, “And you, Highness: do you have any siblings?”

Beneath her robes Eirtaé tensed, sensing not only Rabé’s sudden change in stance but Sabé’s as well. Though her painted face gave no hint of her disquiet, Eirtaé hadn’t missed the slight catch in her breathing. Holding her breath, the handmaiden waited for Sabé’s response with anxious anticipation.

“Yes,” answered the pseudo-Queen hesitantly, “I do. My sisters live in Deeja Peak near my parents, while my brother…he came to Theed to support me.”

“Ah,” was all the stranger said, compassion softening her voice, “Is he in one of the camps?”

“I don’t know.” Eirtaé’s heart nearly broke at the slight emotion in Sabé’s voice, at the slight breathiness that followed, “A part of me hopes Breno managed to escape and warn my village, and the other wishes he’d been captured.”

“Because then at least you’d know he hadn’t been killed in the invasion.”

The decoy Queen nodded, her movements slow and laden with sorrow, though whether for her people or her brother, Eirtaé was unable to tell. That would be something to speak with her about later, Eirtaé decided.

“Some of the pilots and Royal guards broke off from our group before we left Theed. Captain Panaka tells me their goal would be to set up a Resistance against the Federation.” A shade passed over the decoy Queen’s eyes, her worry apparent for a brief moment, followed by a glint of resigned familial pride, “I think if he escaped and remained in Theed, he would want to join them.”

“What does your heart tell you?” asked Alia, her voice gentle.

Her fellow Handmaiden sighed, bleakness entering her eyes for just a few moments before being swallowed by Sabé’s practiced control.

“Too many things.”

The four of them sat in silence for another quarter of a cycle, lost in their own thoughts, before Alia stood. Eirtaé watched apprehensively as she approached the decoy Queen slowly, watching her closely for any sign of deceitful intent.

“Say not, the struggle naught availeth; the labor and the wounds are vain, the enemy faints not, nor faileth, and as things have been, they remain,” she said slowly, arresting both Handmaidens and the decoy Queen with her strange, vivid blue gaze.

“If hopes are dupes, fears may be liars; it may be, in yon smoke concealed, your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, and, but for you, possess the field.”

Her gaze upon them increasing in its intensity until it was nearly painful to stare into her brilliant, vivid, electric blue eyes, and with each passing breath Alia’s voice became more and more soothing, more hypnotic, the rhythmic cadence to her words captivating them.

“For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, seem here no painful inch to gain, far back, through creeks and inlets making, comes silent, flooding in, the main.”

As Alia’s eyes fell on her, Eirtaé was conscious of an impression of…something…not quite earthly about the stranger. An impression of goodness and…wholeness...that was just waiting over a brilliant horizon... there was a sense of magnificent completeness just beyond Eirtaé’s reach as she fell deeper and deeper into the stranger’s eyes. Before she was lost, however, Alia spoke again.

“And not by eastern windows only when daylight comes, comes in the light; in front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, but westward, look, the land is bright.” Here her eyes fell on Sabé, releasing Eirtaé from the power of her gaze. “I may not be a Jedi, but I can still…See things, Highness. Many things. Sometimes the future, at times the past.”

She stood taller before them, emotions warring for dominance within her eyes before at last she bowed deeply. Upon straightening, she seemed about to say something when the door leading to the Audience Chamber opened, admitting Captain Panaka and his guards. Flashing a grin to them, Alia’s last words to Sabé before leaving the Audience Chamber comforted Eirtaé in a way that was at once without explanation and yet felt oddly right.

“Don’t be afraid to hope, Highness. Never be afraid to hope.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Fingers aching, eyes sore from strain, she swore in frustration as the vibroknife clutched tightly in her hand slipped, gouging deeply across the top right corner of the board, catching the underside of her pointer finger and slicing it neatly. Alia swore again as she stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking the resulting blood into her mouth in an effort to apply pressure to the wound and stop the bleeding.

“What are you doing?”

Surprised, Alia let loose an undignified squeak, resulting in her teeth biting down hard on her injured finger, which then resulted in another bout of swearing. Angry, annoyed, and embarrassed, her eyes were narrowed to blue slits as she turned to where Qui-Gon’s Padawan stood.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she said in a hostile voice, glaring daggers at him, “I’m making a deji board.”

“A what?”

The expression on his face appeared to be sincere, his curiosity genuine. Releasing her death grip on her pointer finger, Alia reached around in the pack at her side for a strip of cloth, ripped it in two, and bound her injured digit. Taking the other strip of fabric, she retied her hair into a basic queue, her previous attempt when she first began carving the board having come loose in her struggle to make the soft metal panel just right.

“A deji board,” she repeated slowly as she secured her hair messily, “You know, to play deji.”

Nonplussed, Obi-wan could only stare at her in polite confusion.

“You’ve never played deji before, have you?” she asked, a light dawning in her eyes, before they began to sparkle and she smiled brightly, enthusiasm infusing itself in her voice, “Listen, wait a few minutes until I’m done, and we’ll play.”

“No.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice reassuring and confident all at once, “I’ll teach you.”

“No,” Obi-wan protested, suddenly distressed at the thought of spending even more time with the frustrating Alia, “I have things to do.”

She cocked her head, causing the tail of her haphazard queue to brush across her shoulders.

“Then why did you come down here?” she asked, and though she gave him a cheeky smile, Alia’s brilliant blue eyes were serious.

For once, Obi-wan didn’t know what to say.

“Come on,” she pleaded slightly, pushing her bottom lip, “Let me teach you. I think you’ll like it.”

“O-oh?” he replied, his mind hazy at the moment. He hadn’t noticed just how…lovely…her lips were until that moment. Dragging his eyes to hers, he arched an elegant eyebrow, “And why is that?”

Alia laughed, the sound coming out rich and vibrant, sending shivers down the length of his spine.

“It’s a strategy game,” she explained, setting the unfinished game board atop her crossed legs. Smiling, she continued, almost shyly, “You seem like the kind of guy who’d like strategy games.”

And to his immense astonishment, she blushed.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

/ Oh my Goddess! /[i] Alia thought frantically [i]/ What am I doing?! Am I actually FLIRTING with the smug son of a bantha? An admittedly handsome son of a bantha, but still an annoying son of a bantha! / She felt her blood stain her cheeks, and desperately Willed her hands to remain where they were and not press themselves to her face. A long moment passed between them, before Obi-wan finally spoke.

“Very well.”

One Standard cycle later…

Night had fallen outside the ship, and though most of the cruiser’s lights were shut off in order to use the cover of darkness as protection, one of the cargo holds was lit as merrily as any ballroom.

“Not bad for a beginner,” she said with a satisfied smile, leaning back until her spine touched the hull of the ship, “Not bad at all.”

Obi-wan looked from her small pile of discarded pieces to his large one and smiled slightly.

“My paani would argue otherwise,” he said wryly, trying out the strange word.

Alia shook her head, tossing aside his depreciating remark.

“It was your first time. With a little practice you’d be able to beat even Tarvis.”

“Who is Tarvis?”

“My odest brother.”

“And can you beat this Tarvis?”

“Every day of the week,” she said without hesitation.

He laughed and Alia felt her cheeks redden slightly.

“It’s not that he’s a bad player,” she said, trying to defend herself, “It’s just that I had a better teacher.”

She elaborated when Obi-wan gestured for her to continue.

“His father’s sister,” Alia said fondly, remembering the hours she’d spent learning how to play the game with the Captain, “Matis was a demon deji player when she was on-world.”

Despite his earlier stiffness toward her, Obi-wan was finding the woman intriguing, a seeming paradox wrapped in mystery. As hard as it was to believe, given his reticence, she stimulated him. Intellectually, of course.

“And when she was off-world?”

“She was a pilot; had her own ship and everything.”

A thought struck him.

“You said that Matis was his aunt; was she not yours as well?”

His question obviously caught Alia off-guard, and sent her visibly scrambling for composure before being able to reply.

“Tarvis was-is my foster brother,” she said hesitantly, “I had-have three of them and one foster sister. His family took me in when mine…died.”

Obi-wan could see how uncomfortable she was with the subject, so despite his curiosity, he steered the conversation to something he hoped was less distressing.

“How did you come to meet the Gungan?” he asked, giving her a casual glance before

He was right. Her face seemed to take on a whole other countenance: her eyes brightened and her lips curved into a smile as she began replacing the pieces on the board.

“Two years ago I was traveling around the MidRim systems…”

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Author's Notes

For those of you who have been unable to guess, I’m using uncommon names for Sumerian deities for Naboo deities.

Innin Another name for the Sumerian goddess Ishtar/Inanna.

Norosema a disease found on Dysis.

Arthur H. Clough, the poem The Land is Bright.

Vibroknife Need I say more?

I have a picture of the bag Alia uses to hold her [i]deji[i] pieces; just for you to know, I’m basing deji physically on Chinese Chess, or Xianqgi. They'll be up at my site eventually, but if you're curious, send me a message and I'll direct you to what I had in mind.


Chapter 8 - Drakar

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 8 - Drakar

“…and now every time I come back to visit, I find another tale about that stupid gorla monster!” Alia complained, moving her halep to capture one of her companion’s kahuni, “And stop laughing, it wouldn’t be so funny if you had to wear a wreath of seaweed on your head!”

But it was useless. Obi-wan was too far gone to stop: the image of the woman before him draped in weeds and carried like some heroine out of a tale to the sounds of “something like what my brother used to sing in the ‘fresher,” was too much for even his control to withstand. He laughed and laughed until his side began to ache.

Though she scowled at him in annoyance, Obi-wan felt no real anger, and even as his laughter died down to where he could breathe more easily, he could see the reluctant upward tug of her lips that had been threatening stretch to an even wider smile, albeit a decidedly wry one. Her eyes seemed to flash in the overhead lighting, and for a moment he admired the brilliant blue of her eyes, and nearly at the exact same instant, it was almost as if she could read his thoughts, as her cheeks suddenly flushed lightly, and she ducked her head back toward the gameboard in front of them.

After a moment, she looked up, her smile shy and self-conscious. As he watched, her smile ended in a sharp gasp as a sudden shock seemed to spasm throughout her body and as she grabbed for the wall of the cargo hold to steady herself, Alia looked up into his startled gray-blue eyes.

“Obi-wan?” she whispered hoarsely, before she fell backward, crying out in pain.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

/ Something’s wrong. / Struggling away from the game, Alia tried to stand, staggering under the onslaught of pain that was now ripping its way across her body. / What’s happening to me? / As Alia swayed dangerously, the world around her began to spin, and as she screwed her brilliant eyes shut, another wave of pain drove her to her knees. / Help me! Somebody help me! /

She cried out, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps, tears streaming down her face as she felt her body begin to shake in response to the pain. Unaware of anything except the pain radiating across her body, unaware of the sudden pair of hands trying to calm her, Alia began clawing at her shoulder with her nails, her cries losing whatever control she had over her voice. On the edge of her consciousness, she heard someone calling her name, someone calling to her in a voice that was both beloved and despised.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Alia!”

Terrible, mind-numbing shrieks split the air as Obi-wan helplessly watched her body begin to convulse violently, the sobs torn from the guttural depths of her throat sending chills along his spine, the strength of her agonizing cries forcing him to his knees. He could feel the agony radiating from her, jarring his mind, forcing him to fight the maddening agony snaking through his mind as he fought to regain his control and sanity. Dimly, out of the corner of his eye, Obi-wan saw a crewman skid to a halt at the door to the cargo hold, his red hair clashing horribly with his red face.

“Help me!” Obi-wan roared in pain as Alia’s cries reached another decibel level. Not waiting for the other man’s response, Obi-wan grabbed hold of one of Alia’s thrashing arms and began to haul her across the floor. Nearly blinded by the effect her screams had on him, Obi-wan hardly noticed the havoc their struggle was having on the ship around them. Half-dragging, half-carrying Alia’s semiconscious body between the two of them, he yelled at those who came running, having heard her cries, screaming for them to find the ship’s medical officer.

Alia’s screams became piercing, her cries incoherent, distorted, stretching longer and louder than any sound Obi-wan had ever heard. Punctuated by her wild thrashings, her screams seemed to claw at his mind, forcing tears to his eyes as he and the other man struggled to carry her through the medical bay doors. Off to his right, Obi-wan dimly heard shouting, the calls drowned out to a monotone by Alia’s high-pitched shrieks as her body twisted and jerked in his arms. Suddenly, he was pushed away from her by a shorter, light-haired man. As he stumbled to regain his footing, Obi-wan watched helplessly as the light-haired man and his fellows who suddenly swarmed around Alia struggled to pin her thrashing body to an examination table.

“Strap her down, Javin!” the light-haired man bellowed, struggling as Alia suddenly convulsed violently, tearing one of the crewmen’s grip from her leg, causing her body to begin sliding to the floor.

“Grab the restraints!” the man shouted, yanking the shrieking woman’s body forcefully back toward him, locking her wrists in a metal cuff.

Quickly, the crewmen and, he now distinguished, the orderlies, secured her other limbs; with her movement now constrained, Alia’s body began chaffing at her bonds, her breathing becoming erratic. A pitiful mewling sound keening from her throat, her lungs beginning to heave, Alia’s blue eyes opened for a few seconds before rolling upward into her skull.

“Gamashtu!” swore the light-haired man, whom Obi-wan now recognized as the ship’s medical officer, Jorda Navras, “Keep her restrained, I must examine her wound.”

“She was told her injury would not bring her harm, that it would heal without ill effect,” accused Obi-wan, unable to maintain his silence.

The doctor looked up at him with startled eyes, having apparently forgotten about the younger Jedi’s presence in his worry for his patient. Navras shook his head as if to clear it, then began to surgically remove Alia’s top portion of clothing, cutting the thick bandage whose underside was as pristine as virgin snow. Shock spread over both Obi-wan’s and the light-haired doctor’s faces to see that Alia’s wound was completely healed, with only a slight scar as testament to her injury. Navras looked to Obi-wan.

“It did,” he said, his voice incredulous, growing dismayed as he continued, “I’ll have to cut into the wound to see what has gone wrong.”

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Author's Notes

Gamashtu Name for a Naboo demon (I made this up. You get the intended point. :)


Chapter 9 - Free the Slaves

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 9 - Free the Slaves

Previously...

Shock spread over both Obi-wan’s and the light-haired doctor’s faces to see that Alia’s wound was completely healed, with only a slight scar as testament to her injury. Navras looked to Obi-wan.

“It did,” he said, his voice incredulous, growing dismayed as he continued, “I’ll have to cut into the wound to see what has gone wrong.”

And now...

Knowing better than to argue with a doctor in his element, Obi-wan nevertheless felt helpless as he watched the shorter man make a thickened slit into her shoulder, carefully probing the edges, nonetheless accidentally marking her flesh as Alia continued her shrieks and convulsions. Finishing his examination, Navras shook his head, and shouted at the Jedi, “Her wound has healed but there is something wrong with its mending! Something other than her injury is causing this to happen. I’ll need to perform a bioscan.”

All at once Alia’s cries began to lessen in intensity and both men looked at her shuddering body in alarm as she began to gurgle and her eyes, normally so brilliant a blue, were dull as they rolled back into her head. Navras sprinted to a command console.

“Kovath,” he yelled, “Get the bio systems running now!”

As Obi-wan watched, a terrified orderly snapped to attention and rushed to one of the consoles opposite the doctor, his fingers making a flurry of movement as they raced across the keys.

“Systems online, Doctor Navras,” said the young man named Kovath, “Running diagnostic…”

/ I’m no Healer, oh Force, help her! /

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“We don’t have time for the diagnostic, Kovath, get it operational NOW!”

Sweat beading his forehead, Jorda narrowed his eyes in concentration as he placed the neural interface over his head, his arms over the console grid; the holographic image that appeared before him was the only beacon of hope for his patient. The scanner brought up a representation of the girl’s body on a nearby screen to which he glued his eyes, searching desperately for the answer to her pain. Nothing…everything was coming back normal. Jorda growled in frustration, his eyes moving restlessly over the screen, when a sudden pixel flashed onscreen. / What was that? / Jorda had learned long ago to never ignore anything on the grid screen, and turned his attention to enhancing the visual.

/ By the…something has burrowed its way into her body. / Enhancing the trail by whatever was doing this to her, Jorda followed its trail until at last he came upon a creature he had only seen in medical holotexts. / A drakar. Some gamashtohn has gotten a drakar into her. / Alia made another gurgling noise, and he quickly checked the progress of the assassin-droid, finding to his horror that its programming was nearly complete. Whirling into action, Jorda ripped the band from his head, shouting even as he moved around the medical bay.

“Stasis chamber! Get the stasis chamber ready. There’s no time,” he screamed at the orderlies as they began to untie her from the table, “Put them both in the pod, I don’t care, just get her into it NOW!”

A hundred things seemed to happen at once: the young man called Kovath slammed his fist onto a keypad embedded in the wall, releasing the stasis chamber from above them, the one called Javin unhooked the examination table from its center leg, and the nameless red-haired orderly grabbed Alia around her waist to pull her into the chamber, when her eyes suddenly flew open, her chest spasmed into the air as if she were possessed, and let out a terrifying, soul-shattering shriek that forced them all to their knees, clutching their ears.

Out of the corner of his eye Obi-wan saw Navras stagger back as the decibel level of her voice shattered the glass around them, but the red-haired orderly struggled to her, pushing the entire table top into the pod, pounding the code into the keypad that sealed it shut. The scream was cut off immediately, and a second later the chamber was filled with bright light as the kolto beams paralyzed its occupant.

His ears ringing, Obi-wan swayed slightly as he made his way to the chamber. Looking down, he was horrified to realize that Alia had opened her eyes in the middle of her scream; her blue eyes were frozen in pain, the intensity in them searing his heart as he pressed a hand to the glass separating them. Inwardly he cried out as he realized that she would be trapped in a continuous cycle of pain until the medical officer was able to re-animate her tortured body.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Qui-Gon awoke with a sudden cry, his hand on his lightsaber as he stumbled into a fighting stance. The shadows cast by the various bits of furniture around the little hovel suddenly became laughing, smoky foes, their cries mocking and high-pitched. He whirled around to face his unseen enemy, letting out a roar as he slashed through the air.

KaTHUNK!

He stared at the two halves of a previously-whole chair dazedly, confused as the smoke of cauterized plasteel filled the air.

“Master Qui-Gon, are you all right?”

Qui-Gon shifted his eyes from the decidedly-dead chair to a sleepy-eyed Anakin. For a moment, his face was as blank as his mind, until something in the boy’s voice caused him to visibly snap to attention and deactivate his lightsaber.

“I’m fine, Ani,” he said, “It was just a dream. Go back to sleep, you have a race to win tomorrow.”

For a moment it almost seemed that the boy’s stubbornness would win out over his good sense, but in the end he simply gave the older man a long look before turning around and returning to his room. Breathing in deeply, Qui-Gon sat back on the cot that had been provided for him and was replacing his lightsaber to its proper place when a voice spoke.

“What did you see?”

Without sparing a glance to where he knew the handmaiden lay, he rearranged his blanket until it no longer claimed a stranglehold on his body.

“I saw nothing, Handmaiden,” he answered before turning on his side, where the Gungan was still snoring, before adding to himself softly, “But what I felt was something else entirely.”

The Next Day…

Watching the caravan of eopie approach, Obi-wan only hoped that the smuggler’s haven had been far enough way so that his Master hadn’t felt the strength of Alia’s agony. The memory of that ordeal still sent twinges of pain along his spine and snatches of reaction-headache through his head. Shivering despite the heat, nervousness ate at his gut as Obi-wan raised a hand to shield his eyes from the suns’ glare. Even from this distance, he could sense his Master’s preoccupation.

Captain Panaka, who was at his side, was watching the group approach with an apprehensive expression, and his dark eyes kept moving to take in the landscape, as if he expected trouble at any moment. The handful of guards behind him reinforced that impression, though Obi-wan knew they were to be the ones who would maneuver the desperately needed hyperdrive unit into place.

The beast carrying the handmaiden and the Gungan arrived first with a travois held aloft by a cushion of antigravity, and as he helped them to dismount, Obi-wan could see the guards moving forward to unload the hyperdrive.

“I’m glad you made it back safely, Padmé,” said the Queen’s Head of Security, “I trust her Highness’ curiosity will be appeased?”

Something in the dark-skinned man’s words made Obi-wan tense, a message that seemed to between the eyes of the Captain and the Handmaiden that he couldn’t read. Whatever it was the handmaiden, Padmé, saw made her shoulders slump, though whether it was from something other than exhaustion Obi-wan wasn’t certain. The surprised concern on his face showed that Panaka clearly hadn’t been expecting this reaction.

“Yes,” Padmé answered woodenly, her eyes blank as they turned to the ship gleaming behind them, “I have much to tell her.”

The two men exchanged worried glances even as she turned around to take the Gungan’s arm.

“Come along Jar Jar,” she said, her voice holding the barest hint of fondness, “Come with me to report to the Queen.”

They watched, stunned, as Naboo and Gungan walked arm in arm into the belly of the ship. Shrugging off his disbelief, Obi-wan was turning back in the direction of his Master’s approaching form when he caught sight of Captain Panaka’s gobsmacked face. Swallowing a smile, Obi-wan turned his eyes away, maneuvering his body around the guards struggling with the heavy unit to make his way to Qui-Gon’s side.

Swinging his leg over the eopie’s long neck, the Jedi Master sent a warm glance in his Padawan’s direction before setting to relieve his carrier of its burdens. Without a word Obi-wan took the various bags handed to him, setting them down upon the sand as he worked with his Master. As soon as they were finished, they moved on to the second pack beast that had been used.

“Will the herd survive if they are left here, Master?” Obi-wan wanted to leave as soon as possible; Navras couldn’t keep Alia in stasis forever. For all they knew, her body’s Healing powers could fuse itself right over the drakar, making it near impossible to remove without harming her in the process. And there would be much pain, of that Obi-wan was certain…both during the procedure and after when she was recovering. Force above, he didn’t want her to have to go through anymore pain.

Qui-Gon looked at him oddly for a moment, before saying, “They will come with me. There is unfinished business I must conclude in the city.”

Something in his voice made Obi-wan sigh inwardly, but he couldn’t resist asking, “Why do I sense that we’ve picked up yet another pathetic life-form?”

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Qui-Gon answered, “It’s the boy who is responsible for getting us those parts. Be mindful, Obi-wan. I sense a disturbance in the Force.”

“I feel it also, Master,” Obi-wan said quietly, watching as his Master turned his beast to return to the smuggler’s haven.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

This wasn’t happening. Any second now, he’d wake up and Watto would be yelling at him to fix yet another broken-down droid.

“I’m free?”

Impossible: he couldn’t be free. He was a slave, and no slave ever won his freedom by racing for his master. Anakin knew he was good, he had beaten Sebulba, after all, but he knew Watto would never let him go until the riches of Gatheyser greased his wrinkly blue palm. And even then Watto would keep him around for whatever needed fixing. But Qui-Gon was smiling down at him, his eyes kind, silently telling him that this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

“You are no longer a slave.”

“Oh, Ani, that’s wonderful!” Shmi exclaimed, her hands still holding the credits her son had given her. She looked up, stars in her eyes as she asked Qui-Gon, “Is he to come with you? Is he to become a Jedi?”

Qui-Gon smiled.

“Yes.”

Anakin felt the happiness build inside him until it burst and he started jumping around, shouting, until he realized his mother wasn’t jumping with him. His mother. Fear clutched his heart as he turned back to the Jedi.

“What about Mom?” he asked, praying that he’d just forgotten to say that she’d been freed, too.

His heart sank at the Jedi Master’s sigh.

“I tried to free your mother, Ani,” he said, “But Watto wouldn’t have it.”

Anakin turned back to his mother with stricken eyes, even as she gathered him close in her arms.

“Son,” she whispered into his ear, “My place is here, my future is here. You weren’t meant for a slave’s life. You’re meant for much greater things.”

Shmi felt her heart break at the wetness growing on her shoulder where Anakin had laid his head. She hugged him tightly before pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“I love you, Anakin,” she said sadly, brushing away the few tears that remained on his face, “I will always love you, no matter where you are. Go with the Jedi, my son, and be what you were born to be.”

She kissed him then, first one cheek, then the other, before finally pressing her lips between his eyes. Shmi hugged Anakin to her breast, willing her tears to hold for a few minutes more. Anakin clung to her desperately, fighting the sobs buried deep within his chest. This was too much…

“I won’t go,” he said into his mother’s shoulder, “I’ll stay with you.”

Shmi pulled away from him with startling speed, her eyes bright and hard as she glared down at her son.

“Don’t you dare, Anakin Skywalker!” she said harshly, causing him to jump though she held onto him with an almost bruising grip, “Don’t you dare walk away from this chance. You are being offered a future I could never give you, a life I could never give you. If you turn this down, so help me Khurzhi, I will turn you over my knee and when I'm done with THAT, I'll make sure you never have children to inherit your stupidity!”

All during her lecture they looked at her with astonishment and, she was oddly pleased to see, both males winced at her threat. Her eyes were both gentle and fierce with love as she forced Anakin’s eyes to meet hers.

“I love you, Anakin; never, ever forget that. And I will always love you, but I can’t let you stay here when you deserve so much more.”

Her eyes, bright with tears and so terribly sad beneath her anger, broke through Anakin’s haze of confusion and sadness. Biting his lip, he nodded and turned around to go into his room to gather his things.

“I meant it, you know.”

Qui-Gon looked at the woman beside him.

“I know,” he answered.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

This was Anakin's dream, but it had gone wrong. It had gone so wrong. He wasn’t a slave anymore, but he was leaving his mother behind. There was only one thing to do. ....come back for her....whispered a voice in his head. A light suddenly blazed inside his heart as he felt those four words warm his soul. / Come back for her. / Yes, he would come back for her. He would grow up to be the greatest Jedi anyone had ever seen, and he would come back and free all of the slaves. He firmed his lips and grabbed his pack before saying good-bye to Threepio and walking into the next room.

She was waiting for him. Taking his hand, she led him outside to where Qui-Gon was waiting. Silently, Anakin followed him when the Jedi Master turned to leave, before something occurred to him and he turned around and ran back to Shmi.

He grabbed her in a fierce hug as he whispered into her ear, “I’ll come back for you.”

Anakin felt her smile into his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut, burying his nose into her neck, trying to burn the memory of how good she smelled into his mind. Breathing in deeply, he pulled back from her arms, turning his back to her as he walked toward the waiting Jedi. Sand whipped at his face as he walked with Qui-Gon, the hand on his shoulder silently telling him that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. Tears carved a trail down his face, but Anakin was oblivious to them. All he could feel was the pain in his heart.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Though he knew his Master would contact him if he were delayed, Obi-wan stood by the gangway of the ship, his eyes restlessly scanning the horizon where Qui-Gon would be approaching for any sign of his Master. Squinting, he resisted the urge to use the Force to strengthen his sight. Whatever it was that had made Qui-Gon wary, Obi-wan too had felt its touch, and found it decidedly interested in anything influencing the Force. Too interested.

{ We can see the ship, Padawan; have the pilot make his preparations. }

Relief washing over him, he turned around to do just that. As he was passing by the ship’s medical bay, however, a jolt of fear shot through him.

{ Obi-wan! }

With his heart in his throat Obi-wan began to run toward the cockpit: whatever was happening to Qui-Gon would visible from there. An iron fist seemed to close around his heart as he watched Qui-Gon fight off a black-cloaked attacker. The ferocity of their battle was causing clouds of dust to swirl around them, until only the green and red of their blades could be seen moving in a deadly dance.

Suddenly a young boy with sandy hair pushed his way through the cockpit doors, his eyes wild.

“Qui-Gon says to take off!”

Ric Olié burst into action, flipping switches and raising the lever that controlled the ship’s landing gear.

“Who are you?” demanded a voice from behind them. Obi-wan didn’t take his eyes off of his Master as he recognized it to belong to Panaka.

“He’s a friend.”

That one belonged to Padmé, who must’ve heard his mad dash to the cockpit and come to investigate. All five watched with baited breath as Olié steered the ship to where the two warriors were fighting, the dust from their battle even worse than before, now completely obscuring their silhouettes. Without a word Obi-wan left the cockpit and ran toward the cargo hold, where his Master would be.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Qui-Gon smashed the handle of his lightsaber into his opponent’s face, stunning him for a few seconds. Those seconds were all the Jedi Master needed: calling to the Force he jumped into the air as the ship maneuvered above him, landing gracefully on the open gangway. But his enemy recovered quickly and with equal grace, albeit far more menacing, he had jumped onto the ramp after Qui-Gon.

All of sudden both warriors seemed to sag in place, shutting their eyes in agony at the wave of pain and terror that rolled over them. But Qui-Gon’s enemy was no stranger to pain or terror, and recovered quickly, slashing at the Jedi just as Qui-Gon opened his eyes.

Blocking his attack, Qui-Gon saw his opponent’s heels were hanging over the edge of the forty-foot drop. Swinging his lightsaber with all of his might, he knocked the dark attacker off the ramp and onto the desert sand. As the ramp closed, he fell backward onto the cold steel of the floor, breathing heavily. Alone, the dark attacker rose from where he had fallen, deactivating his double-handed lightsaber and moving to where his ship waited. For now, the Jedi had escaped, but Darth Maul knew that one day soon, they would cross paths again, and when they did….a grim smile stretched across his lips. When they did, nothing would be able to save them.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

The remaining four waited in tense silence until a voice crackled over the intercom.

“I’ve got him.”

Releasing his breath, Olié turned his eyes back to the sky and set their course for Coruscant. As they rocketed away toward the stars, he turned around to question the boy that had brought the Jedi Master’s message, but found empty air where he had been. Looking at the Queen’s Head of Security brought no answers, but it was her handmaiden who answered in his stead.

“He’s gone to see Master Jinn.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

No clue to where he was going, Anakin followed his instincts has they took him around another corner. He blew out a breath when he saw Qui-Gon laying on the floor of the hold, another man kneeling beside him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, rushing to the Jedi Master’s side, his eyes worried.

Qui-Gon smiled wryly, remembering with a sigh a conversation that had started just that way the night before. Had it only been the night before? He groaned, thinking that he must be getting old. Otherwise his attacker would not have gained so many hits on him.

“Master?”

The sound of Obi-wan’s voice broke through his exhaustion.

“I think so…that was a surprise I won’t soon forget,” he said, shaking his head as he sat up.

“What was it?” asked his Padawan, the worry apparent in his grey-blue eyes.

“I’m not sure, but he was well-trained in the Jedi arts.” Too well-trained, as he had discovered. “My guess is he was after the Queen.”

“D’you think it’ll follow us?” asked Anakin.

“We’ll be safe enough once we reach hyperspace, but I have no doubt he knows of destination,” said Obi-wan, ignoring the boy’s question.

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Anakin, his blue eyes wide at the sound of adventure.

Qui-Gon recognized the look his Padawan was giving the former slave: the look that was pure Obi-wan-annoyance.

“We will be patient,” the Jedi Master replied, letting the smile that had been growing slide across his face as he waved a hand to his Apprentice, “Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-wan Kenobi. Obi-wan is my Padawan-learner.”

The boy’s already wide eyes grew even bigger as he took Obi-wan’s hand in greeting.

“You’re a Jedi too, aren’t you?” At Obi-wan’s slight nod, Anakin grinned and shook his hand harder. “Pleased to meet you!”

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X \r\n\r\n

From the Author - -
“I didn’t like that whole goodbye scene with Anakin and his Mom. I mean hello! He has a run-in with the Darkside because of his love for her; wouldn’t you think he’d be a little more upset that he was leaving her to go off with some strange man with a lightsaber?”

“I had this idea about the travois that’s hanging behind Padmé's and Jar Jar’s eopie: it hovers above the ground, kinda like Luke Skywalker’s X-34 Landspeeder in A New Hope. So I went to StarWars.com and researched it.”

Author's Notes

Khurzhi One of the sun-goddesses of Tatooine. Will have more details on this later.


Chapter 10 - Now We See

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 10 - Now We See

Previously...

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Anakin, his blue eyes wide at the sound of adventure.

Qui-Gon recognized the look his Apprentice was giving the former slave: the look that was pure Obi-wan-annoyance.

“We will be patient,” the Jedi Master replied, letting the smile that had been growing slide across his face as he waved a hand to his Apprentice, “Anakin Skywalker,
meet Obi-wan Kenobi. Obi-wan is my Padawan-learner.”

The boy’s already wide eyes grew even bigger as he took Obi-wan’s hand in greeting.

“You’re a Jedi too, aren’t you?” At Obi-wan’s slight nod, Anakin grinned and shook his hand harder. “Pleased to meet you!”[i]

And now...

Though he was amused at how taken the boy seemed to be with his Padawan, something in Obi-wan’s eyes concerned him. Exhausted as he was, he allowed his student to assist him in standing, then turned and asked, “Where is Alia? I am certain she would like to meet our guest.”

Obi-wan’s face remained impassive, but his eyes glanced at the boy, and at his sharp intake of breath Qui-Gon’s unease returned. A loud rumbling saved him from having to get rid of Ani rudely, and the Jedi Master smiled as he looked at the boy.

“Go on Anakin,” he said, his eyes kind, “Find the galley. I believe there you will find something to tame that stomach of yours.”

Grinning sheepishly, the sandy-haired boy nodded and ran off down the corridor, poking his head into various rooms until it seemed he had found the galley. Turning to his Padawan, Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“Tell me everything,” was all he said, his voice demanding.

And to his immense surprise, Obi-wan simply shook his head and replied, “Come with me.”

Troubled by his Padawan’s unusual reticence, Qui-Gon could only follow his Apprentice as they walked down the ship’s corridor. The feelings of uneasiness that had plagued him while in the spaceport that he had attributed to the presence of the Sith now suddenly returned, gnawing away at his gut as they came to the medical bay doors. Obi-wan’s stony expression did little to ease his anxiety, and the doctor’s haggard face once they entered the medical bay worried him even more. His Padawan led him over to the far side of the room where the doctor seemed to operating a scanner of some kind, checking readings from a figure in an upright stasis chamber. The doctor remained oblivious to their approach until a monitor began to flash and as he looked up, he managed to catch sight of the silent Jedi.

Shaking his head at Obi-wan, the doctor said, “No change yet, Mister Obi-wan. You know I can’t wake her until we reach Coruscant.”

“I have brought my Master to see her, Doctor Navras,” his Padawan replied, bowing low.

The shorter man took a look at the older Jedi, seeing the dust and sweat staining his rugged face, his dirty clothes, his shoulders weary from exhaustion and the heat of the twin suns. He gave them a tired smile that seemed to ease some of worry lines on his face.

“You must be the one who went to the spaceport,” the medic said dryly, placing the medichart he had been holding onto the table at his side.

“Yes,” said Qui-Gon, his eyes on Navras, “To find a replacement for the hyperdrive.”

With a quick and quiet grace the medical officer walked toward them.

“And a new charge, I hear,” the doctor said, sticking his hand out in greeting, “Heyla, Jedi. I am Jorda Navras.”

As the two men shook hands in greeting, Jorda noted that though the Jedi responded accordingly, his words seemed automatic, and on catching the direction of the older man’s eyes, Jorda realized that he had at last seen Alia. [i]/ That poor woman, / he thought when he released Qui-Gon’s hand, his mind wandering as he watched the two warriors move toward the frozen woman. / I wonder how she met them. They seem so concerned for her, yet I distinctly remember Gramms telling me Jedi were never concerned with anyone but themselves. / He knew he would never have answers from the men; he didn’t have the courage to ask his questions. / Damn Jedi, always so mysterious. / Jorda shook his head slightly at his train of thought, remembering how they had rescued the Queen on Naboo, thus saving his life as well. / At least they’re good for something besides contemplating the meaning of life, / he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. A low rumble shook his mind from the wandering path it had laid, bringing his attention to the here-and-now.

“It’s been a few hours since I’ve had something to eat, and I’d imagine it to be the same for the both of you,” he said, glancing at the thus far silent Jedi, “I’ll buy you both a drink and a meal if you’ll keep me company.”

Jorda shrugged at Obi-wan’s sudden stare, nearly smiling as the man’s braid whipped around his head.

“There’s no alcohol onboard, not unless your Master happened to bring some back with him from Mos Espa; but all men need to eat. Especially,” he added with a sardonic glint in his eye, “If they plan on just visiting the sick bay, not becoming patients themselves.”

A tight grin stretched across his mouth as he spoke, and from the half-hearted smile on the younger Jedi’s face, Jorda knew his attempt at humor had been understood. Another low rumble sounded, and from the slight, nearly transparent flush stealing across the Padawan’s face, Jorda knew at least he was normal. For a human, at least.

“Come on,” he said, making a beckoning motion.

But Kenobi turned back to his Master, almost as if he were waiting for permission. Jorda watched the older man seem to incline his head slightly, as if dropping from exhaustion. Whatever it was, it satisfied his apprentice, who turned on his heel and walked toward the door. Both men exited the medical bay doors and turned right, heading for the galley.

As they walked in step, Kenobi with his long strides and he with his own shorter, quicker ones, Jorda asked quietly, “Will he be alright?”

The Jedi replied affirmatively, and once they had reached the galley and retrieved some food to eat, they sat together in silence, each nourishing his body while their minds wandered to the woman frozen in the medical bay.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Fighting had done nothing to appease his rage; if anything, it had fueled his hate to an even higher degree, but Darth Maul’s Master had not taught his student patience for nothing. Instead of taking his anger out on something, anything, he forced himself to control that anger, to use his hatred…bit by bit, though his rage was still there, as it always was, Maul felt the degree of control he had been taught take hold. Satisfied, he moved to his ship’s control panel and entered the coordinates his Master had instructed him to use for communication.

Lowering himself to a knee before the holoplatform, Maul prepared himself to meet with his teacher. As the grey-blue shape of his Lord Sidious came into view, a gruesome smile stretched across Maul’s face: though the Jedi had escaped, the Sith had made certain their battle was one he would never forget.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

It was a long time before the Jedi Master joined them. Once he did, however, Jorda immediately finished what was left of his meal and stood, giving the two men their privacy as he left to return to the medical bay. Without a word Obi-wan rose to get his Master something to eat, and when he returned he waited in silence until Qui-Gon was finished. His Master’s pre-occupation was growing more and more apparent with each passing moment, and as he finished off the last of the guava slices Obi-wan had given him, Qui-Gon looked up at his apprentice, his voice quiet.

“Tell me."
Without preamble, Obi-wan told him about Alia’s condition, and of Navras’ suspicions. Qui-Gon stood still in shock, unable to take in his Padawan’s account at once. He hadn’t sense anything amiss with Alia once they had escaped the blockade, he reflected dazedly; he had assumed she would heal just like everyone else.

“We all did, Master,” said his Padawan, though Obi-wan noticed he was distracted.

{ How could this have happened? } Qui-Gon thought, feeling an emotion akin to grief begin to shade his heart.

“I don’t know, Master,” answered Obi-wan, shaking his head, relieved when Qui-Gon turned his eyes on him, “Doctor Navras is continuing his observations of her condition, but he seems certain that it is this drakar that is the cause of it.”

Qui-Gon watched as his apprentice tried to suppress to a shiver, but failed.

“I will not lie to you, Master: her screams were terrible,” continued Obi-wan, oblivious, for the moment, of anything save for the memory of her agonized cries,

“They were penetrating…piercing. It was like they were…alive, like they were attacking me.”

He looked at his Master for a moment before adding, “It was almost as if I could feel her screams inside my mind. As if they were touched by the Force.”

“She is more than she appears to be,” Qui-Gon answered before sighing. It was past time for meditation on the subject of Alia. He hoped that it wasn’t past time for answers, as well.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X \r\n\r\n


Chapter 11 - Bands of Purple

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 10 - Bands of Purple

It had been two days since their party had left Tatooine; two days of nothing but empty space and an endless field of stars. Standing still at his post, Qui-Gon closed his eyes to dots of bright light, his breath coming in deep, heavy sighs. What he wouldn’t give for a band of purple or red across the horizon.

Something kept pulling him here, night after night, while everyone else was asleep and his Padawan meditated. Turning around, Qui-Gon walked quietly to the lone occupied stasis pod at the far end of the room. His skin pebbling from the coldness in the medical bay, he came to a stop in front of the pod, its harsh white light bathing him as he stared into Alia's eyes.

/ From the beginning she has intrigued me, / Qui-Gon realized uncomfortably as he stood before her. / I have the strangest feelings when I am around her. We are complete strangers, and yet I feel as if I have known Alia for many, many years. I feel…comfortable with her, at home, even. It amused me when she turned that sharp tongue of hers on us, yet was instantly gentle and calm with Jar Jar. / A slight smile came to Qui-Gon's lips as he recalled vividly how she had all but forced him to carry water-pouches for her friend, flatly ordering him to make sure the amphibious creature was kept hydrated.

Qui-Gon hadn’t been able to resist raising an eyebrow at her threatening scowl, nor suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Nodding in silence and turning away, he had slipped the pouches beneath his farmer’s cloak, grinning as he headed across the sand with Jar Jar and R2D2. That grin had quickly left his face when he realized the handmaiden would accompany them, but the journey to Mos Espa had been uneventful, and he had found himself thinking more and more about Alia.

Something in her had…it had Called to him, Qui-Gon realized with a sudden start, looking up into her eyes with fascination and disquiet. Some part of him had recognized her, the vivid, unnatural shade of her blue eyes evoking a familiarity he couldn’t place.

/ Looking into her eyes is like remembering a dream, / His eyes gentle, Qui-Gon began to feel a well of compassion begin in him as he gazed at the young woman before him. / And each time I feel as if the dream is just out of reach. / Qui-Gon’s thoughts turned wistful as he moved his hand until his palm rested atop hers. Alia’s strange eyes fascinated him, drawing him to her like a moth to a flame. Despite the pain, Alia’s fire, her depth, even her strange sense of wisdom, was frozen in them.

All at once, Qui-Gon wished he had been here with her when the drakar had begun to move. He wished he had been able to ease some of her pain. Suddenly, the door behind him gave a loud hiss before opening. The Jedi was able to identify the golden yellow aura as that of Jorda Navras, Alia's caretaker. A rush of gratitude caught him unawares, and for a moment, Qui-Gon could only stand still, before he was able to brush off his momentary confusion, and acknowledge the ship's medic.

“Good evening, doctor,” said Qui-Gon, clasping his hands behind him.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Jorda sighed at the sight of the Jedi before moving toward the pod.

“Did Kenobi tell you what infected her?” he asked as he picked up Alia’s medipad from one of the examination tables.

“I believe he said you called it a drakar," replied the Jedi Master, inclining his head in Jorda's direction, "I am not familiar with such a life-form, however.”

Jorda snorted derisively, running a hand through his blond hair as he pulled a stylus from his uniform and began tapping the pad’s arrow keys, scrolling through Alia's readings. After a moment, the doctor sighed again before looking apologetically at the taller man.

“I myself am not entirely familiar with its workings," he admitted, "But I can assure you that a drakar is not a life-form. Not a sentient one, anyway. I can only tell you what I have in my medical files.”

Moving briskly toward a console, with a stroke of a key he brought up a hologram of a repulsive, leech-like organism with sharp suckers.

“This is a drakar,” he explained dispassionately, though his eyes betrayed his revulsion, “It has no brain, no heart, only an ever-expanding stomach. I would call it a droid, because it only follows its programming, but I fear it would be an insult to other droids.”

Jorda brought up another visual, this one obviously taken from a medical student’s holotext. Master Jinn visibly winced as he saw the entrance wound: a grazing of the torso, most likely made by a blaster. The injury itself had been visibly penetrated, a hole measuring five Standard centimeters in diameter apparent.

“This is an image from my school text, explaining the usual entry point used by a drakar. And this,” said Jorda, rolling a different key to bring up another image, “Was Alia’s point of entry.”

Qui-Gon looked at the image closely.

“It appears as if her wound was cut deeply,” he said, his stomach sinking when he saw the two images were identical, save for that one discrepancy.

“Yes,” Navras nodded, adding in a perplexed voice, “A blaster wound such as this, harmless when treated, would at most partially heal within seven to nine days. It should not have completely healed in the one day it had.”

Beneath the doctor's wonder, Qui-Gon sensed a note of despair, tinged with regret, at his statement. Suddenly, the ramifications of his words broke over the Jedi Master like a wave of ice-cold water.

“You had to re-open the wound.”

Jorda sighed at the Jedi Master’s flat tone.

“Right again. I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened it and examined the damaged tissues. This,” he waved at the monitor, “Was simply a cover for the damage beneath her skin. As awful as it sounds, the drakar had burrowed its way into her body, and not painlessly, either.

"The path of the hole is this,” Jorda said, bringing a computer model onto one of the larger viewscreens.

Qui-Gon watched the doctor trace the drakar’s path from its point of entry through the muscles of her torso, moving to the right in a steady line. He could see, as the model shifted, that the drakar had skimmed the outer top edge of her lungs, burning through the protective lining, snaking its way down along the right side of Alia’s trachea, touching just enough of the organ to have affected its protective lining as well. The path stopped, however, just before reaching the pericardium encasing her heart.

“From looking at the residue lining the pathway after she was in stasis,” explained Navras, enhancing a portion of the drakar’s track, “I was able to determine that the agent was using nyaline-coated razors, somewhat like being layered in acid, designed to burn away the most resistant tissues and allow easier access to the burrowing teeth.”

“How is it that you know of this drakar, Doctor Navras?”

Jorda couldn’t see any suspicion in the Jedi’s question, simply curiosity.

“If I had been taught at the Palace University in Theed, I might not have known,” he replied with a grim smile, “I chose to be trained at the Maris Academy in Deeja Peak instead. Part of the curriculum was researching less well-known devices employed during wartime, how to identify them, how to treat them and so on.

“I must admit, my education was conducted on a peaceful planet during peaceful times. I never expected to use my knowledge to help someone I knew. And I had never seen a drakar before the monitor brought its visual onscreen, unless you count the hologram,” he added, waving at the image.

The Jedi Master’s brow furrowed into a thoughtful frown, and during the silence that followed, Jorda took the time to run another diagnostic on his patient. As the scans came back to the computer, he shook his head at the results. He had been lucky to find the droid’s path. Damn lucky. Even now her body seemed to be repairing itself….or at least trying to.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” he muttered to himself, checking the results again.

“What should not be happening, Doctor?”

Startled, Jorda looked around, having forgotten the Jedi’s presence.

“Her body is supposed to be in complete stasis,” he explained quickly, bringing up a schematic of the pod, “Kolto beams are designed to paralyze individual body cells as well as those of any foreign agent, rendering the patient’s cells incapable of mobility, thus paralyzing the contamination.

“But here,” Jorda continued, bringing up a model of Alia’s wound, pointing and enhancing the image, “It appears that her body is actually trying to actively heal itself at the molecular level, instead of cellular. The components of the drakar function at cellular level, as does the paralysis of the kolto beams and most tissue repair. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

The Jedi Master was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “Alia is not a normal girl.”

Jorda nodded absently, his eyes once again scanning his patient’s medichart. Thinking hard, the doctor replied, “With the irregularities I found in her blood, I’d wager she’s at least half-human; it would certainly explain the abnormal readings I’m getting. It might also be the reason for whatever this…healing...factor…thing…is.”

The two men stood in silence for a long time, one preoccupied with digesting everything he’d heard, and the other busy trying to prepare for the coming day.

“What will become of her once we reach Coruscant?”

Keeping his eyes trained on the numbers in front of him, Jorda restrained the urge to roll his eyes. What was with all the questions? Jedi were supposed to know all, see all, and be all. Where was their famed omniscience now?

“I can’t keep her in stasis forever. Eventually her body will knit itself right over the damn thing, and once the beams wore off…which they will…the drakar would still retain enough of its original programming to finish its mission. I need to get her to a medical facility as soon as possible, and surgically remove it.

“If I don’t time it just right, her body will heal too much, the paralysis will wear off too quickly, and any chance I have of saving her becomes nil. As soon as we land I’ll get her off using the service platform.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

As the medical officer turned around to shut down the hologrid console, both men watched as the revolving form of the drakar vanished before walking in the direction of the doors. On impulse, Qui-Gon called for the other man to stop, and asked, “What is your opinion, Doctor, on the person responsible for this?”

The medic’s reply was sudden and vicious.

“A drakar is an assassin-droid, one of the worst and most difficult to detect until too late. It’s designed to move quickly and painfully, feeding as it goes upon organ tissues and whatever else is in its way. Most commonly its objective is its victim’s heart. Once the drakar recognizes cardiac tissue, it is triggered to explode. Anyone who would inflict such a thing on another deserves to die a slow, painful death themselves. Preferably by their own creation.”

Qui-Gon nodded, and the doctor resumed his exit, leaving the Jedi once again alone with his thoughts.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Jar Jar was feeling anxious as he walked off the cruiser with the other Naboo and the Jedi; he didn’t want to be here, watching that Senator greet the Queen. He grew even more nervous when he saw Qui-Gon leave for the Jedi temple with Obi-wan. His eyes began to dart around frantically. He wanted Alia to be with him; she would know how he felt. He missed his friend and wished she wasn’t so sick.

The doctor had taken Alia with him off the service platform as soon as the ship had landed. Qui-Gon had told him that Alia was very ill, that she hadn’t wanted him to see her when she was so sick. Jar Jar owed the Jedi a life-debt, and had believed the human, despite his doubts. Whenever Alia had been sick before in Otoh Gunga, she hadn’t cared who saw her. / Mebbe shesa sicka in a nodda diff’rent way. /

Jar Jar thought some more as he walked behind the handmaidens to the air taxi, then nodded his head decisively. Qui-Gon had said he couldn’t see Alia on the ship, but the Jedi didn’t say he couldn’t see her at the doctor’s house. He looked around, searching for Padmé; she knew a lot...she would know where to find the doctor’s house.

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From the Author - -

"I’ve made up the Maris Academy, Deeja Peak is an actual city on Naboo, I don’t know if there’s a Palace University, and I made up nyaline. Anyone have something concrete to replace it with? Oh, and kolto beams I got from the KOTOR games, not sure if they’re canon. Are they?"


Chapter 12 - Coruscant Landing

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 12 - Coruscant Landing

“Careful…careful there, Jav; don’t joss’l her like tha. Keep her steady, now.”

Nhat’s voice held a note of worry, a fact all the more disturbing because Jorda couldn’t recall the last time his trainee had worried over anyone. With his mother Rrista dead, Jorda knew very little mattered to Nhat anymore, aside from his studies and a few old friends. The medic watched as two of his trainees, Nhat and Javin Needa, adjusted their grips accordingly before one of them...Jorda couldn’t tell which one from his current position...punched in the code designed to release the service ramp beneath them.

With a slight thunk as their only warning, the ramp began to descend. As soon as they touched the ground, Jorda and the rest of his team moved away from the ship as quickly as possible, to allow Nhat and Javin enough room to switch on the repulsorlift located on the underside of the stasis pod.

Once the two men were set, they turned and nodded to Jorda.

“All right then,” he said quietly, looking at each of his four assistants, “Let’s get her to the Medcenter.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Palpatine was pacing when Captain Panaka entered the chamber, and looked up for a moment at the intrusion, before continuing.

“The Republic is not what it once was, Your Highness,” he said with regret, “The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates who are only looking out for themselves and their home systems. There is no interest in the common good...no civility, only politics...it's disgusting. I must be frank, Your Majesty, there is little chance the Senate will act on the invasion."

Queen Amidala was still as he paced, her eyes solemn and her face expressionless. “Chancellor Valorum seems to think there is hope,” she said in a cool voice.

The Senator shook his head at her statement, an action that ignited a very powerful feeling of anger in Amidala. He was acting as if she were a mere figurehead when their people depended on her to end the Federation’s occupation. Every minute wasted was costing lives, and all Naboo's Senator could do was shake his head like she was some naïve diplomat fresh from the Youth Legislation.

“If I may say so, Your Majesty,” Palpatine said quietly, as though he sensed her anger, “The Chancellor has little real power...he is mired down by baseless accusations of corruption. The bureaucrats are in charge now.”

The pity in his eyes was unbearable; Amidala felt her heart break at her Senator’s devastating words. What hope did her people have now, if the Senate was so corrupted that the Chancellor could do nothing? Bowing her head in despair, Amidala took a deep, steadying breath, before raising her eyes, looking beyond Palpatine to the exterior hallway, where Anakin and Jar Jar waited.

“What options do we have?” the Queen asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

Her eyes fixed on the boy outside the room, Amidala missed the triumphant smile that flashed across her Senator’s face.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Once we’ve released her from stasis,” said Jorda in a quiet voice as he sterilized his hands, “Her cells will begin to regenerate at an accelerated rate. Every second wasted will bring her an inch closer to death. Do you all understand this?”

Though his back was toward his trainees, Jorda commanded their attention with the sound of his voice. They had never before been as important as they were now: a patient under their care had never been as close to death as Alia. For a moment Jorda hesitated, his eyes blurring as he stared his hands. She had been so kind to him earlier, despite her teasing; she’d given them all a chance to forget, for a time, that their homes were under attack, that their families could be dead. Blinking away the moisture that threatened his vision, Jorda took a slow, deep breath.

When he turned around to face Javin, Kovath, Nhat, and Solié, his face was calm, with no trace of the despair that threatened. Jorda said nothing as he walked to where Alia’s pod lay beside the operating biobed. Activating the surgical hologrid, he and his trainees watched as a blue holographic image of Alia’s form appeared above the biobed. It would be Kovath’s duty to monitor her lifesigns on the panel opposite of Jorda. If there was any indication her vitals became critical, the procedure would be terminated and they would return her to the stasis pod.

To his right, Solié waited, her eyes fixed on the readings in front of her. It would be her responsibility to keep him informed of the drakar’s progress.

And before him, Javin and Nhat stood by Alia’s pod, ready to transfer her body as quickly as possible to the operating biobed. Jorda placed the neural interface around his head, switching on the surgical computer before raising his head to meet their eyes. Nodding quickly, Nhat depressed the locking mechanism on the stasis pod, which was followed by a swoosh of air as the pod opened before their eyes. Taking a deep breath, Nhat then deactivated the kolto beams surrounding Alia’s body, and in one swift movement, he and Javin quickly grabbed her arms and legs, pulled her out of the pod and laid her upon the biobed.

Immediately Jorda flew into action, running diagnostic after diagnostic to ensure the path of the drakar hadn’t deviated. At the same time, Nhat ripped away the portion of her clothing covering her upper torso. For a few seconds, Jorda hardly dared to breathe: visible to everyone now was a thick, angry red line, marking the path of the drakar. Steering his mind away from distraction, he concentrated on the task before him: slowly, slowly….with unhurried precision, Jorda carefully focused the tip of the bio-etheric laser above Alia’s heart, enhancing the surgical screen to within 500 percent of its usual capability. / Nammu, let me help her. /

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Help me! Help me! Help me!

The words ran over and over in Alia’s mind as she tried to push through the haze of pain clouding her senses. All around her was darkness, blacker than any night sky she’d ever seen. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, everything in her body focused on the thing killing her. Alia could feel its cold, brutal presence assaulting her body, could feel its sharpened teeth digging into her muscles, and felt with mind-numbing clarity exactly how she was going to die.

Help me! Help me!

And then the moment stopped, leaving her body frozen but her mind free. Well, as free as anyone could be when their entire body is petrified, helpless to do anything except relive this moment, this instant, over and over and over and over and over……

Help me!

Despite her screams, the world around her gradually grew still, the echoes of her screams dying away as everything faded to black.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Sigh.

Sigh.

Sigh.

“You okay there, Jar Jar?” asked the Gungan’s companion.

Jar Jar looked at the blond little human, and sighed again. Of course he wasn’t alright: he hadn’t been able to find Padmé, he was worried about Alia, and he was starting to feel hungry. But Anakin was just a baby; he couldn’t be expected to know any better.

“Mesa juss wishen Al-ya was here, Ani,” he replied, leaning back in his seat, “Mebbe den shesa sing-i for mesa; dat allus make-en mesa feel bedda.”

“Alya? Is she a Gungan like you?” Anakin couldn’t keep the curiosity out of his voice; he’d heard Jar Jar talk about this mysterious Alya ever since they worked on the Pod together. She’d sounded like an adventurer to him: like someone out of a space pirate’s tale.

He was surprised, however, when Jar Jar started laughing. Anakin's cheeks flushed an angry red as he turned away from the alien, feeling humiliated for some reason. A scaly hand reached out to him, which he shook off. Another hand reached out, put itself around Anakin’s shoulders, and effectively turned him back toward Jar Jar.

The Gungan’s yellow eyes were gentle as they looked at Anakin. “No be angwee, Ani, mesa juss laffin ‘bout juss tinken iffn Al-ya be-en Gungan. Berry funny, berry berry funny, Ani!”

Jar Jar laughed again, his body lolling around, and by extension Anakin.

“No, no, Al-ya no be-en Gungan,” Jar Jar said, squeezing his arm around his human friend, “Shesa like yousa, only mure bigga, mesa tinks, and mure talla, and she gots da mud hair and da sky-eyeses.”

The Gungan sighed again, his whole face falling. Surprised at this change from Jar Jar’s normal cheerful-but-clueless attitude, Anakin furrowed his brows in concentration as he looked carefully at Jar Jar. / Alya is important to him/ the former slave realized.

“Shesa be-en mya bestest frend; shesa be-en mya on'y frend, mesa tinks,” Jar Jar continued softly, smiling sadly at Anakin, as though to confirm his suspicions. The Gungan’s eyes grew distant as he recalled, “I ‘member when shesa come ta visit Otoh Gunga unda da watta on Naboo; shesa allus bring-i da pwessents and da tell-os.”

Anakin perked up at this. “Tell-os? Are those like stories?”

Slowly, Jar Jar nodded his head. “Mesa tink I ‘member Al-ya callen dem dat, yes.”

“What kind of stories?” His energy revitalized, Anakin sat up straight in his seat, turning his whole body toward Jar Jar. For the moment, his preoccupation with Padmé was forgotten.

“All kinds,” the Gungan answered, “Tell-os ‘bout da places shesa go, da ayl-yuns shesa see….evryting wesa wanten, shesa tell Zasa and mesa.”

“Who’s Zasa?” asked Anakin, thrown for a moment by this new character.

“Shesa da dotta of da Big Boss Nass, His Honor. Al-ya be-en her frend, too, mesa tinks,” Jar Jar replied. Suddenly, a laugh exploded from the Gungan’s throat, quickly becoming a giggle. “Mesa ‘member when Al-ya first showen us a ‘sto-ree.’ Zasa be jumpin’ outta her skin!”

Jar Jar sighed again, suddenly, then said wistfully, “Mesa wishen Al-ya was tellen us a sto-ree right now. Or sing-i her moosika. Her sing-i voice be-en so bootiful. Yousa like it, Ani, mesa know you would.”

Anakin looked at Jar Jar; one thing he’d noticed about the Gungan was the way he wore his heart (or whatever constituted as a heart for Gungans) on his sleeve. The former slave wasn’t used to people being so open about how they feel. And right now, Jar Jar was openly miserable.

“Where is Alya, Jar Jar?” he asked, not unkindly.

The Gungan sniffed loudly.

“Shesa gotta bad sickness. Dat heela on da ship took her.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find her.”

Jar Jar looked at Anakin with big eyes.

“Yousa meenen dat, Ani?” It was almost funny how quickly his face fell. Almost. “But, wesa no-knowen where shesa is.”

“That’s not a problem,” replied Anakin confidently, giving Jar Jar a wink, “It never stopped me before.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Is there any other way?”

She hated seeing the pitying expression in Palpatine’s eyes.

“Our only other choice would to be to submit a plea to the courts...” the Senator suggested tentatively.

“There's no time for that,” Amidala replied acerbically, “The courts take even longer to decide things than the Senate. Our people are dying, Senator...more and more each day. We must do something quickly to stop the Federation.”

There it was again; that pitying expression. “To be realistic, Your Highness, I'd say we're going to have to accept Federation control for the time being.”

Eyes bleak, Amidala bowed her head. “That is something I cannot do.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Dark. Warm. Safe. All around her was darkness...all around her was warmth. Why had she been so afraid? Once, long ago, she had felt this same measure of safety, this same measure of protection. She had been so loved...before...before...Gentle hands held her now, cradling her whether she slept or woke: here, there was no distinction. She was safe; she was loved.

I am your little rabbit...I wiggle my little ears...I'm playing hide-and-seek...In the vineberry field.

Someone was singing softly. It was a strange song, for how could a rabbit speak? And what was a vineberry field? And yet, those things didn't matter: for the words were passing over Alia like a faint, warm breath passing over a cool cheek, pausing so slightly around her that Alia could almost swear she felt them kiss her. The voice, warm and gentle, was singing so softly that Alia couldn't be sure if its sound, so beautiful, so complete, so pure, had always been a part of this place, or had suddenly come into being.

Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...a spanking you should take...for holes in Neighbor's garden...you should not make.

As the voice continued to sing, its cadence soothing, its flow of words caressing her like a playful breeze, the place around her began to change. It grew brighter, but it was a strange brightness, as if something was covering her eyes. Alia should have been frightened: what if she was blind? What if she was stuck in a ship's exhaust port? What if she was some nutcase zealot's hostage? It wouldn't have been the first time, either.

Don't close your eyes to me...Don't wiggle your ears to me...Don't wrinkle your nose to me...Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit.

Where had she heard this song before? It sounded like a lullaby; had someone sung it to her when she was a child? The brightness around her grew, though it was still muted, as if passing through a barrier. Her singer was changing as well: before their voice had been gentle and light, and now she could hear places where they sang in a slightly deeper tone, becoming richer and more off-key. Her singer's new voice seemed warmer than the first, more full of life, amusement and affection. Their tone was slightly harsher, and instead of sunshine, felt more like Terran whiskey running itself along her spine.

Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit...

And then, suddenly in her mind's eye, Alia felt a veil pass from her eyes, and there she was: the singer. So sudden, so familiar, so loved...They beckoned to Alia, the light dancing across the auburn highlights of their hair, their smile showing off an impressive set of teeth. Alia felt a tug on her heart, and with tears in her eyes, she sang the last refrain with her singer.

"Dasoula, dasoula." Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit.

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From the Author - -

“If anyone is having problems understanding Jar Jar, let me know what I’m doing wrong. Thanks.”

Pronunciation - "Anakin's pronunciation of Alia's name is wrong, but he doesn't realize it yet. 'Al-ya' is the closest approximation Jar Jar can make, and so Alia (pronounced Ah-lee-ah)'s name is further mangled to Alya."

"The song in this chapter is a Greek children's song; I've adapted it to this story as I've seen fit. Cheers."

Author's Notes

Rrista Nhat's mother; as in "Rrista Korbi."

Medcenter refers to the Galactic Senate Medcenter

Bio-etheric laser the laser used in Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within.

Javin Needa is in no way related to Captain Needa in Empire Strikes Back; I just liked the surname ‘Needa.’

Biobef I'm a Star Trek fan. Figure this one out.

Nammu like I did with Tatooine, I've created a pantheon of deities for Naboo. In my 'verse, Nammu is the mother sea goddess of Naboo. Her son Ningiku is the Lord of Land, and is the most revered of most Nabooians. Healers on Naboo, however, are said to feel a special bond with Nammu because of the many healing properties of water.


Chapter 13 - Destinies Meet, Part I

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 13 - Destinies Meet, Part I

"Duh soo lah duh soo lah."

Anakin felt his head snap to attention at the ragged sound coming from the woman lying on the biobed. When he and Jar Jar first got to the Medcenter, they'd stuck him in the reception area, as if he had nothing better to do. Well, that might've been fine for Jar Jar, who'd fallen asleep not long after that, but Anakin wanted to hear her stories, to learn about places he'd only ever seen in his dreams.

The Gungan had said that his friend knew a lot of stories, and that was enough for Anakin. So, the second he learned where her room was located, he'd quietly left Jar Jar where he was, and had come here. Alya had been asleep when he'd crept past the medical staff outside and she hadn't moved since then, over an hour ago. Not until now, anyway.

As he watched, Anakin thought he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, as if she was trying to smile in her sleep. She was so pale; he didn't think he'd ever seen anyone with skin as white as hers; maybe it had something to do with the thing that doctor had pulled out of her chest.

Though his mother might've said otherwise, Anakin did know how to be quiet: you didn't last as long as he had in Watto's service without learning when to keep your mouth shut, your eyes down, and your ears open. / Mom. / Anakin felt his heart constrict as he thought of Shmi, all alone now with Watto. His eyes had just begun to burn with tears when Alya took in a deep breath, catching his attention completely.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

/ Breathe. Breathe. Got to breathe. / Inhale. The sound was rasping, irritating to her throat as she drew in a deep breath. Pain: a dull, throbbing sensation behind her eyes. / Let it go, let it out. /[i] Exhale. [i]/ I feel...sunlight. And sand...why do I smell sand? /

"Who's there?" Alia whispered, her eyes closed. Breathing: she had to focus on breathing. Gradually, she was able to identify that she was lying down on something. / A bed, I suppose. And I'm wearing something itchy. /[/] "I can't see you, but I know you're there. Where are you?"

In the answering silence, Alia struggled to sit up, the growing fear becoming a knot in her belly, but paused when she felt hands on her arm. They were small, but callused, as if they had been used for hard labor.

"Please," she heard, "Don't get up yet. Lemme get the doc, alright?"

The voice was young, male, and definitely not her singer.

"Who are you?" she asked again, her voice rasping, though this time she allowed her frustration to seep through, "Where am I? And why can't I see?"

"My name's Anakin," the voice replied hesitantly; Alia heard rustling and felt the bed beneath her dip slightly as the voice's owner sat down beside her. "You're in the Senate Medcenter, on Coruscant. And you can't see because your eyes are closed."

"Coruscant? What am I doing on Coruscant? I was on Tatooine, playing [i]deji with Obi-w...Obi-wan. Where's Obi-wan?"

She started struggling again, this time frantic to make sure the irritating Jedi was alright.

"Stop moving, you're messing up the bandage the doc gave you!"

Alia paused again, not only because of what her companion said, but because of how he said it: there was honest concern in his voice, as well as fear and confusion. Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Blue. Her eyes were a beautiful, shocking, terrifying blue. Anakin had never seen a color so wild and alive, as if the color itself was a living, sentient being come to bring him into Paradise. Though Alya's eyes were bloodshot and hazy with pain and drugs, but Anakin had only ever seen as vibrant a blue in her eyes as the holoimage he'd seen of ice katarrs on Rystalla. For a moment, Anakin could only stare, his jaw slightly open as he was mesmerized by her eyes. Until her snort of annoyance brought him back to reality.

He blushed, stammering out, "Sorry, I've just...never...your eyes..."

Alya sighed, an expression of resignation on her face.

"Everyone says that," she replied.

Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Anakin stuck out a hand.

"I'm Anakin," he said again, "Your name's Alya, right?"

Her eyes grew even brighter, a smile stretching across her face.

"You must know Jar Jar," she answered with a wry smile, "He can never get my name right. It's Alia."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Once again, he felt red staining his cheeks. / What's wrong with me? / he thought, annoyed with himself, / I've blushed more in the last three days than I have in the last three years! /

Anakin was startled when Alia began to chuckle.

"You have loud thoughts," she explained when he looked at her questioningly. At the alarm in his eyes, she quickly added, "Just your surface thoughts. I can't read anything more, and I think it's because of whatever Jorda's given me. It is Jorda, right? The 'doc' you were talking about?"

"I think his name was Navras," Anakin replied cautiously, "They said he came in with the Naboo, or that he was Naboo; something like that. I remember some of the others talking about how he wouldn't let anyone else work on you, not even one of the bigwigs."

As he watched, an amused smile stretched its way across her face. "Wow. I must've really been something, then. Wonder how I good I was."

Though he was confused by her teasing words, and didn't quite get what she was saying, Anakin did hear the gratitude in her voice, as well as her surprise.

“What was that thing you said?” he asked shyly.

That made her sit up.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Huh?” There was only a trace of pain in her voice, she was proud to say; Jorda's surgery had done wonders in helping to accelerate her body's normal healing capabilities: there was only a dull ache across her chest now, instead of her entire body.

“When you woke up," Anakin repeated, "You said something like ‘duh soo lah.’”

“I did?” / Rabbits? Why would I be talking about....oh. /

“Yeah.” He paused for a moment, looking at her with his solemn blue eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

“Not…completely.”

Had she said something about rabbits? Or was this a test? But how could this possibly be a test: the odds were slim to none if anyone here knew that song. And no one knew about her singer.

“Does it mean something?”

Anakin's voice was questioning, and polite; his curiosity, though, made her smile slightly. Alia could remember a time when she had been as eager to learn something new.

“It means ‘rabbit’…in Dysean.”

“Oh. What’s a rabbit?”

For a second, Alia thought he was joking. Incredulous, she asked, “You’ve…never seen a rabbit?”

The boy definitely responded to that one. “We didn’t have them on Tatooine," he answered defensively, before adding uncertainly, "At least, I don’t think we did.”

“Uhhh…hmmmm,” replied Alia, trying to think clearly, “Well, a rabbit is a….well…they’re mammals, with long ears and two elongated front teeth.”

“Oh. What’s Dysean?”

“It’s….” / Would he know about the Clan? Could he? / “The language on Dysis, in the Beroe Sector; it’s where I grew up. I think.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m a little fuzzy on the details at the moment….everything’s a little hazy…”

For the third time since she'd woken up, Anakin found himself blushing with embarrassment. Drawing in a deep breath, he quickly tried to explain to her how he was feeling.

“I'm sorry. I just heard a lot about you from Jar Jar, and when we found out where you were we came to find you because Jar Jar was really worried and I wanted to hear about the gorla monster and the Taardi and Praxia and the Nakantu Caves so we snuck down here but they wouldn’t let us see you because they said ‘her condition is critical she needs rest’ so then Jar Jar fell asleep but I wanted to see for mys-”

Anakin was cut off by her finger pressing against his lips. Her eyes, slowly clearing, were still full of pain, but they sparkled with amusement. Cautiously, he smiled back, curving his lips against her finger.

“What are you doing such a long way from home, Anakin?”

Her voice, low and husky, was gentle and calm, like Shmi’s, as she removed her finger.

"Well..." he began, "That's sort of a long story."

"The beginning is a good place to start," Alia answered, grinning.

And so he told her everything: from the moment Master Qui-Gon had entered Watto's shop to the second he was told he had been freed. When he got to the part about leaving Shmi, however, his throat closed up, and he turned away from her. He couldn't talk about that; not to a complete stranger. Not even to Qui-Gon. So he was surprised when he felt a hand tentatively touch his arm.

When he looked up, it wasn't pity he saw in Alia's eyes, nor was it disgust at his attachment. In her eyes he saw understanding and compassion, and when she strained to put an arm around him, Anakin found himself leaning into her embrace.

"It's alright, Anakin," she said, holding him close, "It'll be alright."

"No it won't," he mumbled, his eyes burning, "It won't be alright. I left her there, all alone."

Alia sighed. He was so like her when she was that age. Memories came flooding back as she held Anakin the way Matis had held her.

"I lost my mother when I was young, too, Anakin." He wanted to ask her how she'd known what he was thinking, but he was too distraught to care. Maybe later.

"The pain never goes away, when you lose someone you love so completely," she whispered, cradling him, desperate to comfort the young boy; he was too young for such pain. Qui-Gon had been wrong to take him from his mother. Alia felt a sudden rush of anger toward the Jedi, though she knew what he'd done had been for the best. It still wasn't fair. "It's like a piece of your soul's been ripped away, and there's nothing you can do except...live through it."

Alia felt him trembling in her arms, and Thought hard about peace and healing. Imagining her skin as a type of membrane, she Thought about diffusing her own inner calm into his body, transferring its sense of peace and warmth from her blood...to his. Gradually, his trembling lessened, and after awhile, he looked up at her, his eyes clear and brimming with embarrassment.

"I don't usually do this around strangers," he mumbled, sitting up, running a hand through his lanky blond hair.

"Well, I'm not usually in a hospital bed, so I guess we're even." She smiled at him, trying to reassure him. It seemed to work, as he grinned back at her. Maybe if she told him about..."Would you like to a hear a story, Anakin?"

His eyes lit up like stars, and he eagerly scooted into a sitting position. Making herself comfortable, Alia thought for a moment, collecting her thoughts, gathering them and placing them in a context he would understand.

"A long time ago, a young girl was born near Anzat, on the world of her mother's people. Her name was Cadis. She was raised by her mother, Mala; they were so close, that some couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Cadis grew up knowing only love and gentleness. I guess you'd say she was spoiled by her mother."

Here, Anakin saw a pained smile stretch across her lips, but was too caught up in the story to ask her about it.

"One day, Cadis found out something special: she was special. She learned that years before, her mother had met her father, a traveler from a distant world, whose presence had captivated Mala. This man fell in love with Cadis' mother, and married her. But the man's calling meant that they couldn't be together, and so, pleading to the Mother of All, Mala was able to give her husband the only gift she could: the memory of her love, and the hope that one day he would return."

"What? Why couldn't they be together?"

"The man was a Jedi, Anakin," she said softly, "Their love was forbidden; not only by his calling, but by her people. The gift Mala gave to her husband was the memory of their love, though none of the specifics, and a chance that one day they could be reunited. Her hope was that Cadis, who hadn't been born when the Jedi left, would grow up and find her father, bringing him back to her mother, where all three of them would live in peace and happiness.

“Years later, however, found that a disease had spread among Cadis' people, destroying them one by one. Cadis and I survived because one of her aunts found us hiding, and took us away, far into space before she, too, died.

"I said that Dysis was where I grew up, but it wasn't where I was born. Cadis and I were rescued by a captain of the Despin Trading Corporation. She took us back to her homeworld, and adopted Cadis. But try as she might, the captain could never replace Cadis' mother. No one could, and no one ever would."

Anakin was silent as she finished her tale, then looked at her with sad eyes. “Ever?”

Softly, Alia brushed aside his lanky bangs. “Someone once said, ‘Time is the only comfort for the loss of a mother.’ We’ll never forget our mothers, Anakin.” She smiled sadly. “But at least yours is still alive.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, before asking, "Did Cadis ever find her father?"

"Not before we parted ways," Alia replied, her eyes sad, "She left Dysis around the same I did."

Silence descended for a moment, before it was broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both Alia and Anakin jumped at the sound, and swiveled their heads around to see who it was. Qui-Gon was standing at the door; behind his tall frame they could see Obi-wan and Jorda Navras peering in at them. There was a strange sort of smile on the older Jedi’s face, as if he knew something they did not.

Embarrassed at getting caught, Anakin quickly slid off the bed and walked over to where Qui-Gon stood.

“You created quite a stir when it was discovered you had disappeared, Ani,” the older Jedi said, a twinkle in his eye, “And that you had taken the Queen’s resident Gungan, as well.”

Hanging his head, Anakin scuffed his toe. “I just wanted to see if she’d tell me some of the stories Jar Jar talked about,” he mumbled.

Qui-Gon suppressed a smile, and glanced over at Alia. / She’s improved drastically, / he thought, remembering the last time he’d seen her.

“You appear to be much improved,” he remarked, his pleasure at her recovery obvious. Moving aside, he allowed for Navras and Obi-wan to enter.

Alia smiled at him before saying, “Thanks.”

Turning her head, she caught Obi-wan’s gaze and asked, mischief sparkling in her vibrant blue eyes, “So…who won?”

Qui-Gon looked on in amusement as his Padawan’s jaw dropped, open twice as if to speak and close, then firm as he pursed his lips.

“Your talent for articulating the irrelevant has also recovered, I see,” Obi-wan replied acerbically, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So, I won?” Alia returned, her eyes dancing.

“Neither of us ‘won,’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Alia grinned unrepentantly and shrugged. All at once her face grimaced in pain as she flopped backward onto the bed, gripping her left shoulder tightly. Immediately, Navras stepped forward, moving his bioscanner along her body, frowning as he went.

“Your left pectoral beneath the mammary tissue was already tense before the surgery,” he explained, his eyes concerned, “And prolonged stasis with a drakar digging into it, not to mention the surgery itself, most certainly did not help.”

“What’s the verdict, Jorda?” Alia managed to grind out.

He sighed. “You’ve sprained it.”

“I sprained my boob?!” she yelled.

“No, you’ve sprained the muscle underneath your…”

At that moment, Navras seemed to recall exactly where they were and who was listening.

“Perhaps it would be better if we continued this conversation in private,” he remarked, pointedly shifting his gaze from Qui-Gon to Anakin and back.

But as he watched, Alia simply shook her head. “No way, uh-uh; I’ve seen that look on doctors before, Jorda, and there is no way in Taresian hell I’m going to let you fill me up with chemicals when I’m perfectly capable of healing on my own.”

Navras sent her a piercing look. “That’s another thing I’d like to speak with you about.”

She gulped.

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Obi-wan watched in fascination as Alia blushed. Not a horrible red as he’d imagined (as Alia seemed to be extreme in everything else), but a very, very, mild pink. He noticed that the tips of her ears pinked as well.

“Later,” he heard her reply as she struggled to extricate herself from the blankets covering her. As he looked on, Qui-Gon moved toward her, placing a hand lightly upon her bandaged shoulder.

“You should rest,” he said quietly, his eyes gentle.

Alia flashed him a crooked smile. A familiar smile.

“We don’t have time,” she replied, covering his hand with hers.

Something caught in Obi-wan’s throat just then, even as his breathing quickened. All of a sudden, he felt as if he were intruding on some private moment. Which was preposterous. But from the looks on both the boy and the doctor’s faces, he wasn’t alone. Unease prickled at the base of his neck as Obi-wan watched the two of them staring at each other, the girl and the Jedi.

Qui-Gon’s hand suddenly glowed for a few seconds, before he pulled it away and returned it to the folds of his cloak. Obi-wan knew instinctively even before Navras pulled out his bioscanner to take Alia’s readings, that her injury would be healed. Not only that, but Force-healed, as well.

“Thanks,” she said softly, before a loud snort made them all jump, and turn toward the door. The snort was followed by a thump, and then they could all hear the noises coming from the other room.

“Ani! Ani, where be yousa?! Ani! Ooo, Ani, no be-en loss, Master Quiggon be-en muy muy angwee wit mesa if yousa loss. Ani!”

“I’m in here, Jar Jar,” Anakin called out.

Alia could hear the distinct slpit-slpat of her friend’s footsteps, oddly distorted due to the floor of her room.

“Al-ya!” With a surprised cry, the Gungan launched his body into the air, almost like he had when he’d taken them to Otoh Gunga, and suddenly found himself hovering a few centimeters off the bed.

“Don’t do that again,” Qui-Gon said softly, before releasing his hold on the Gungan’s body and setting him down gently on the bed.

Jar Jar jumped up to a standing position, rubbing where the Jedi had grabbed him, trying to get some more circulation going, but when he turned back to Alia, his mouth split into a huge grin.

“Al-ya, mesa so-so wurried ‘bout yousa,” he crooned, humming from deep within his throat, his large yellow eyes gentle with relief, “No be-en dis sick agin, okey-day?”

Alia nodded, pulling her friend to her in a fierce hug. She’d missed Jar Jar very much, and she hated that he’d worried over her. He was so innocent about so many things….the Gungan had enough wrinkles as it was with the Federation threatening to destroy his home. He didn’t need her to cause even more.

“Thanks,” Alia said again to Qui-Gon, rolling her shoulder to indicate the reason for her gratitude, before turning to look at the blond-haired man, “Can I go now, Jorda?”

The doctor looked at her, before giving them all a long suffering sigh.

“There’s nothing physically wrong with you,” he replied, putting away the portable bioscanner, “Though I’ll warn you that there will be scarring. Other than that: yes, you may go.”

She smiled at him as she stood up, leaning a little on her Gungan friend, walking over and patting his shoulder.

“I know what a sacrifice you’re making, Jorda,” she said solemnly, though her eyes were teasing. Still smiling, she bent forward a tiny bit and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

Turning around to meet the Jedi, Alia stood between Anakin and Jar Jar, proudly standing tall.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a room around here?” she asked brightly.

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Author's Notes

Slpit-slpat Yes, that is what I meant.

Anzat An actual planet from the SW-universe; for information on its location, go to Wookieepedia and look it up.

Katarr From a very beautiful image that I found on the Internet. I encourage you to PM me and ask for the URL. I'd put the hyperlink here, but I'm not sure how to do that here at

[i[Rystalla[/i] I made this planet up, from the Greek word "krystallos," meaning ice.

Taresian hell I am such an ST: VOY nut; I am obsessed, I swear. Anyway, this is a planet (Taresia) in the ST-universe, so go to Memory-Alpha.org in order to read about it.


Chapter 14 - Destinies Meet, Part II

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 13 - Destinies Meet, Part II

As the water spraying from the showerhead above her streamed across her body, Alia let her hands run along her chest, the tips of her fingers, tracing along the edges of the smooth, shiny new scars she’d gained. The skin above her right breast was slightly rough and uneven, a reminder of her blaster wound. / As if I’d need one, / Alia thought wryly. The roughness would remain: she knew from past experience that her body’s healing factor only allowed for the wound itself to heal, but a scar would form nevertheless.

Her hand moved itself across her chest to trace the raised scar from Jorda’s surgery. / He’s a good man, / she mused, her thoughts growing warm at the thought of the attractive doctor. / Kind and considerate to his patients. Gentle…very sweet. Not bad-looking, either. / A snort of derisive laughter interrupted her brooding, before shortly becoming a groan as her body caught up with her mind. A slow tendril of heat began to coil in her belly as she took her hands from her breasts. / That was the wrong thing to think, Alia! /

Placing her head upon the cool glass of the ‘fresher unit, the sweat forming upon her forehead glistened in the steam. / Get a grip on yourself, woman. And not that kind of grip! It’s not as if he’s as good-looking as Obi-wan, anyway. / A sudden hiss escaped her lips as her breasts puckered even more at the thought of the handsome Padawan. A low moan of frustration escaped her control as she felt her body respond to her thoughts. Swearing out loud, Alia jabbed violently at the panel controlling the water temperature, turning the spray frigid in seconds.

“Breathe, Alia; breathe. You can’t do this,” she told herself, locking her arms in place beneath the freezing water. Clenching her jaw, she gasped through gritted teeth, “You’ve got enough problems as it is.”

After a time, her breathing calmed as her lungs adjusted to the sudden cold, and this time when her skin pebbled with goose-bumps it was in response to the chill. Feeling suddenly tired, she slowly reached for the water control once more, and with a twist of her finger cut off the frigid spray. Chilled and suddenly fatigued, Alia stretched out for one of the large towels hanging from the wall.

Alia was not looking forward to the meeting with the Jedi Council, despite Anakin’s alternating excitement and dread. Toweling her hair, she dried herself off briskly, habit moving her forward when her mind wanted to linger in the ‘fresher. She’d thought of lying to the Council, but had just as quickly discarded the idea. It would almost be cathartic to let it out. Almost.

Reaching for the air control, she switched on the air cycler, and felt its steady pull begin to remove the humid air from the ‘fresher unit. Her body already slightly cool from the change in water temperature, it took her only a few moments to pull on her synth-vin traveling pants, the only ones not stained from her travels. These were followed by a cream-colored shirt that fitted snugly against her body, its clinging sleeves reaching just past mid-bicep on each arm. It was an old one, made for her on Dysis. She had other ones, but for some reason, she felt the need to have something from her adopted family when she went before the Council.

“Alia, are you ready yet?”

Suppressing a grin, Alia called out in answer, “I don’t know, Anakin. Wanna come in here to find out?”

She heard a muffled squeak of embarrassment, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Pulling her hair back and tying it with a piece of cord, Alia smiled at her reflection. For someone so mature on some things, her new friend seemed as awkward as any nine-year boy about dealing with girls. Giving herself one more cursory look in the mirror, she opened the door and walked outside.

Anakin was sitting by the window, his knees drawn up to his chest, his wide eyes following the traffic outside.

“What’s the rush?” Alia asked, reaching for her utility belt that had been placed on the adjoining sofa.

“I wanted to say goodbye to Padmé before we left.”

At his soft voice, Alia stopped fastening the belt around her waist, and looked at Anakin for a few moments. A wide grin suddenly split her face.

“You like her, don’t you?” she crowed, her eyes flashing with laughter as she finished strapping on the belt.

Anakin hunched his shoulders defensively, refusing to look at her.

“I just wanted to say goodbye to her. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. A Jedi can’t have feelings for anyone.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Alia said, her mirth disappearing as she walked to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “I think you’ll find that Jedi care very much for the people around them. Despite what the Code, Anakin, Jedi have feelings, too. The same as you or me. They just hide them better, that’s all.”

He nodded half-heartedly at her, and Alia shook him lightly.

“Come on,” she teased, “Let’s go see your lady-love.”

At the blush staining Anakin’s cheeks, Alia laughed again, glanced at Jar Jar sprawled on the couch, then back to Anakin.

“Besides,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t think he’ll miss us, do you?”

Her attempt at humor worked; Anakin laughed and pulled himself to his feet. He was glad Alia was coming with him. Jar Jar was alright, but he was too funny to be taken seriously most of the time. With Alia, he knew the guards would let him see Padmé.

In the end, though, they woke up the sleeping Gungan, and all three of them left the apartment in search of the elusive handmaiden.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Something was different…he could feel it. There was a presence within the Force that he could sense…a latent power calling out to him, the Master Lord of the Sith. He drew his mind inward, focusing his attention on the energies around him. A roiling mass, the Force on Coruscant was muddled and tangled, the abundance of life both good and evil doing much to hid his presence from the Jedi in the Temple. He waded through the teeming body, taking its power as it suited his desires, looking for the disturbance in the Force.

At last, all at once, the Sith could see two points of power amidst the other life-forms on Coruscant; two stars shining so brightly that they caused the Force-signatures of all those around them to be cast in shade. His mind instantly hungered for them, for their power, desiring to take it and make it his own. This cast a new light on his plans.

Focusing his senses on their Force-signatures, he followed them to their position, and was pleasantly surprised to find them in the Queen’s section of the Senate guest quarters. / This will make things easier. / He was determined to discover the identities of these two stars in the Force, and make them his own.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Qui-Gon and Obi-wan met them at the Queen’s apartments, after a somewhat successful search for Padmé: Anakin was able to say goodbye, just not in person. As they walked together to lift station, Alia noticed Obi-wan’s annoyed looks thrown over his shoulder to Jar Jar, who kept craning his head around them in awe. She didn’t blame him: not even the trees in the oldest parts of the swamp were as large as some of the buildings.

Once their lift arrived and they were crammed together in its small space, Alia discreetly positioned herself between the younger Jedi and her amphibious friend. Anakin noticed the movement, and turned his gaze to her: her blue eyes seemed dim, and there seemed to be a blanket of sadness around her. He debated about asking her outright what was wrong but decided against it. Instead, he decided to watch her. Sometimes you had to watch a person in order to know how to approach them.

He watched her as they stepped into the waiting air taxi, watched her as they exited, and watched her as they climbed the stairs just outside the Temple. He watched her as they entered the Jedi sanctuary, passed the foyer waterfall where Jar Jar sat down to wait for them, and watched her as they walked up the stairs to where they entered another turbolift. Ignoring the view, Anakin watched her until the lift doors opened and they began to walk down the hall.

“Alia…why are you sad?”

Anakin’s sudden question caught her off-guard, and made her glance quickly at the Jedi. Despite Obi-wan’s stony glare, it was obvious that the question had captured their attention as well. Sighing a little, she turned her eyes back to Anakin. His own an innocent blue, his concern for her was transparent.

“You go on ahead,” Alia said quietly to the Jedi, “Anakin and I will catch up in a minute.”

“We do not have time for this,” replied Obi-wan.

Alia felt a stab of annoyance at his brusque reply.

“Then I’ll make time, Kenobi, and you can go on ahead,” she snapped angrily, her eyes flashing to his, glaring at him.

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, then glanced at the irritated expression on her face.

“We will wait for you,” he said, “Come, Obi-wan.”

Anakin looked on as Alia watched them go. Turning back, she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat, like it had when he’d first seen Padmé. Bending to one knee, Alia placed her hands on her thigh and looked into Anakin’s eyes for a moment. He was concerned for her, that was obvious, but he was also brimming with impatience to hear what the Council had to say, and his impatience amused her.

Smiling slightly, she asked him in a low voice, “Do you remember the story I told you? The one with the little girl?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “The one about Cadis?”

“Yes,” answered Alia, “Well, today I have to speak with the Council about her, about how her people lived after meeting the Jedi, about the things that happened.”

“You mean the story was real?”

“Oh yes, Anakin, very real. Didn’t you believe me when I said I’d grown up with her?”

“Not really,” he mumbled, “I thought it was something you’d made up.”

The boy hung his head slightly, and Alia chuckled.

“Are you afraid?” Anakin asked suddenly, his eyes searching her face.

A slight catch of her breath was all Alia allowed to show of her surprise at the ease with which he had seen through her laughter.

Grinning slightly, she shrugged, saying, “Of the Council? No; I’m afraid of what they might do, of what they might ask. What if they want to know who her father is? How can I give away such a secret?

“Jedi aren’t allowed to have children, Anakin; it’s against their Code,” she explained patiently, her eyed sad, “I’m afraid that they won’t listen to me when I say that he didn’t break it, that when he left, he forgot what had happened. I’m afraid they’ll take away his powers, his connection to the Force.”

“Why would they do that?” asked Anakin, wide-eyed.

“To make an example of him, of what happens when you break the rules, if you aren’t a good little boy and do what you’re told,” Alia replied, her voice hard and her eyes distant, “Cadis would never forgive herself if she knew her father had everything stripped from him that made him who he was simply because she existed.”

“Then why are you going?”

The question brought her up short, and the feelings of buried resentment and bitterness dissipated as she considered her answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, not yet anyway, but Alia had never lied to a child before, and Tatooine would freeze before she started now.

“Because something Qui-Gon said convinced me that her father would want to know the truth, despite the consequences,” Alia replied carefully.

He seemed to accept her answer, though the contemplative look in his eyes had not disappeared; neither had his apprehension. Pulling away from her own fear, she smiled reassuringly to him.

“But this has nothing to do with you, Anakin. Here,” she said, holding out a hand, “I know I’ll feel better with something to hold on to.”

Grinning again, the boy took her hand and, once she stood, Alia walked with him to where the Jedi and their Council waited.

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Chapter 15 - Confessions

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 14 - Confessions

In the Senate Rotunda…

The Senate corridors were a plain grey as Amidala and her entourage passed through them. A curious choice, the young Queen mused, for a building stuffed to the brim with thousands of distinctive cultures. Though artwork adorned the otherwise plain walls, Amidala found herself wishing very much to be back home on Naboo, where the buildings were open and clean, and the sky was bluer than a carruga robin’s egg.

Palpatine, leading the procession before her, halted her train of thought when he stopped in front of a doorway, and turned to her, indicating that she should precede him. Taking a deep, imperceptible breath, Amidala crossed the threshold in the Naboo Congressional box. The Senate Chambers were huge, with thousands of Senators and their Aides. She noticed the room was designed to be a massive cylinder, with the various Congressional boxes of other races placed around the center assembly area, which held itself a single spire, upon which she could see Chancellor Valorum seated in the elevated box at the center.

With a sharp rap from one of the Chancellor’s Aides…Mas Amedda, her Senator whispered in her ear…gave a sharp rap of his staff, calling the babbling delegates to session. Rising elegantly from his seat, Chancellor Valorum took his place at the center podium. Turning his head toward the Queen’s box, he directed his voice in her direction.

“The Chair recognizes the Senator from the sovereign system of Naboo.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Meanwhile, in the Jedi Temple…

“The boy has great potential,” admitted Master Ki-Adi-Mundi.

Qui-Gon exhaled softly, his breath so faint it was hardly noticeable. Obi-wan looked at him, his feelings difficult for him to name.

“He is to be trained, then,” Qui-Gon persisted.

The other Masters looked at him in surprise.

“No,” said Master Windu, leaning forward in his seat, “He is not to be trained.”

“No?”

“He’s too old.”

Shock sped through Qui-Gon, and there was surprise on Alia’s face as well. Anakin, however, refused to show his hurt and merely stared at the two leading Council members. Suddenly Qui-Gon stepped behind Anakin, placing his hands upon the boy’s shoulders. / If they cannot see it, I will show them. /

“Then I will train him,” he said, ignoring the startled looks of the other Masters, “I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan-learner.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Back at the Rotunda…

With no small amount of trepidation, Amidala watched as her Senator stood, their Congressional box releasing itself from their platform and moving toward the center spire as he spoke.

“Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate,” Palpatine began, “A tragedy has occurred on our peaceful system of Naboo. We have become caught in a dispute you're all well aware of, which began right here with the taxation of trade routes, and has now engulfed our entire planet in the oppression of the Trade Federation.”

“This is outrageous!” The cry came from behind her, and as she turned, Amidala saw that the Federation representative was glaring at her as his box also moved to the center, “I object to the Senator's statements!”

The Chancellor did not approve of this outburst, Amidala was pleased to see. Perhaps if the Federation continued to act as the brutes they were, this would prove to the Senate that action must be immediate.

“The Chair does not recognize the Senator from the Trade Federation at this time. Please return to your station.”

Thoroughly rebuked, the Federation Senator…Rabé whispered that his name was Lott Dod…reluctantly moved back to his place. Unfazed, Palpatine continued his speech as if the interruption hadn’t occurred.

“To state our allegations, I present Queen Amidala, recently elected ruler of Naboo, who speaks on our behalf.”

Taking another imperceptible breath, she rose regally, moving to replace her Senator at the podium.

“Honorable representatives of the Republic, distinguished delegates,” the young Queen addressed the crowd around her, “And Your Honor Supreme Chancellor Valorum, I come to you under the gravest of circumstances. The Naboo system has been invaded by force. Invaded...against all the laws of the Republic by the Droid Armies of the Trade...”

Once again the Federation Senator interrupted.

“I object! There is no proof. This is incredible. We recommend a commission be sent to Naboo to ascertain the truth.”

Suddenly, the Malastare representative appeared between them, with Ambassador Aks Moe addressing the convention.

“The Congress of Malastare concurs with the honorable delegate from the Trade Federation. A commission must be appointed.”

“The point...” Chancellor Valorum said, before his Aide began whispering furiously into his ear.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Back at the Jedi Temple…

“Then I will train him,” Qui-Gon said, ignoring the startled looks of the other Masters, “I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan-learner.”

Alia sucked in a breath, glancing at Obi-wan; the carefully constructed walls behind his eyes collapsed momentarily as they showed his surprise and hurt for all to see. In an instant, however, they were rebuilt, so well made that she winced inwardly.

“An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon; impossible for you to take on a second,” said Master Yoda.

As she watched, Obi-wan stiffened slightly at the slight glance from his Master.

“The Code forbids it,” added Master Windu.

“Obi-wan is ready-” Qui-Gon began.

“I am ready to take the trials!”

Obi-wan had uncrossed his arms, moving forward to defend his master, despite the hurt Qui-Gon had caused him.

“Ready?” asked Yoda, swiveling his ears slightly, “What know you of ready? Our own counsel we will keep on who is ready.”

“Obi-wan is a headstrong, capable young man,” replied Qui-Gon, returning his eyes to the Council, “And though he has much to learn of the living Force, there is little more he can learn from me.”

“Young Skywalker’s fate is decided, Qui-Gon; for the moment, he is not to be trained. That is our judgment,” said Master Windu, dismissing any other arguments Qui-Gon might have made, “Now, there was another you wished us to see; where is she?”

Still not quite believing that they would ignore the seriousness of Anakin’s potential, Qui-Gon did not react to Mace Windu’s words immediately, but in the short silence that followed, he was able to collect himself. Placing a slight pressure on Anakin’s shoulder, Qui-Gon nodded for him to go. The boy looked at the Council once more, as if to memorize their faces, then turned and walked toward the door; as he passed her, he gave Alia a weak grin that failed to reach his blue eyes.

Returning a similar smile, Alia squared her shoulders; the slight, insignificant action was a minor thing, but it managed to bolster her flagging courage as she walked to the center of the circular room. Her breathing quickened slightly as she felt beads of sweat trickling downward along the vertebrae of her spine.

Yoda watched the young girl approach the Council, feeling the emotions she tried so desperately to bury deep beneath the surface. There was something about her….something familiar….

“Much fear I sense in you,” remarked the wizened little alien.

“Yes,” she said honestly. Why lie to him about that?

“Why fear, do you?”

“I fear many things, Master Yoda,” Alia replied honestly.

Yoda Felt her evasion, and was curious as to the meaning of her subterfuge.

“Do you know why Qui-Gon has brought you before us?” asked Mace.

Something about the girl did not sit easy with him; the odd, familiar confidence with which she had walked to the center of the circle unsettled him. There was a curious blank surrounding her thoughts, too obscure for him to pinpoint exactly. Her eyes and her stance were the only clues to her mind, and that made him ill at ease.

Breathing deeply, Alia tried to silence her mind, reaching for the quiet tranquility of the Force, feeling it calm her shaky breaths.

“Because of Cadis?” she said, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Many of the abilities you spoke of are similar to those of a child sensitive to the Force. Were you and Cadis not tested when you were young?” asked Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, whom Alia recognized from Anakin’s description.

The Cerean Master had felt the stirrings of the Force around them, and could see a faint circle of its power around the girl’s form.

“No,” replied Alia, shaking her head, “I was thought to be normal to their species. In fact, in some ways I was deficient, certainly not gifted.”

“Speak of them in the past, do you?” spoke another Master.

As Alia turned to answer, she saw that it was an alien of similar features to Master Yoda. She bowed her head slightly to Master Yaddle before continuing.

“My mother’s people were greatly dependent on what you call the Force, and greatly interdependent on each other. It is difficult for me to describe how connected they were,” Alia said, shaking her head, trying to make them understand, “You might think me an idiot when I say this, but my mother carried a piece of all her kind inside her, and all the others carried a piece of her within them.”

With a start, Anakin realized that Alia was telling the story differently. Almost as if….At the same moment, Obi-wan came to the same realization, and turned his head slightly to his Master, puzzlement apparent in his eyes.

“When she died,” Alia continued, not daring to turn around to face her companions, “There was a hole where none should have been, and they couldn't survive incomplete. They couldn't exist without her, and she couldn't exist without them.”

An inescapable note of sadness softened her voice, dimming the brilliant shade of her eyes.

“They had been immortal, you see,” she continued, her throat lowering her accent, her eyes becoming distant, “They had always existed, living as symbiants within the Force, and without that bond, they were all destroyed.”

After a small silence, Master Gallia leaned forward, the tentacles of her headdress swinging slightly.

“What species were your people?” she asked.

Alia gave a slight smile; just a small quirk of her lips.

“The University of Sanbra has called them Diathim, but I've heard many space pilots call them Angels.”

She sensed the surprise of the Council, as well as their skepticism, and stepped forward, spreading her hands in a silent plea.

“Please,” she begged, “If I have to, I'll show you.”

“How show us, can you?” asked Yoda, tilting his head, “Told us of their deaths, you have.”

“One of my abilities is creating mirrorpools,” she explained, hesitantly, “It’s a sort of memory projection. You'll be able to see them reflected through the mirror. It’s easier shown than described.”

The Council was silent for a moment, seemingly having to take in her words. When the silence began to stretch several minutes, however, her foot began to twitch as a result of her anxiety.

“We would see this…mirrorpool,” Master Windu said at last.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

As the young Queen watched, the Chancellor turned to confer with his aides and Vice Chair, Mas Amedda.

“Enter the bureaucrats, the true rulers of the Republic," Palpatine whispered into her ear, "And on the payroll of the Trade Federation, I might add. This is where Chancellor Valorum's strength will disappear.”

Amidala's heart sank when Valorum stood up again, a look of regret upon his face.

“The point is conceded... Queen Amidala of the Naboo, will you defer your motion to allow a commission to explore the validity of your accusations?”

Anger unlike anything she had ever endured before ripped through the young Queen, and she felt the irritation in her eyes that signaled frustrated tears.

Her voice, though full of accusation, was carefully controlled as she said, "I will not defer...I have come before you to resolve this attack on our sovereignty now. I was not elected to watch my people suffer and die while you discuss this invasion in a committee. If this body is not capable of action, I suggest new leadership is needed."

Murmurs began circulating the chamber, as many of the delegates speculated on what the Naboo Queen was up to; Valorum was looking at her with increasing alarm. With calm deliberation, Amidala plunged in the proverbial knife.

"I move for a vote of no confidence...in Chancellor Valorum's leadership.”

The murmurs suddenly become roars of approval and jeers, crescendoing throughout the Rotunda. But Amidala ignored them, looking only at the man in the center box. Valorum had an expression of absolute astonishment across his face, standing stunned, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened, before dumbly acquiescing to his aide's entreaties for him to sit. Mas Amedda, seeing the Chancellor's state of distress, took over.

“Order! We shall have order! Order!" yelled the Vice Chair, shaking his staff.

“Vote now! Vote now! Vote now!” the assembly chanted, impervious to Mas Amedda's shouts for order.

Palpatine stood, bending low to speak into Amidala's ear.

“You see, Your Majesty, the tide is with us...Valorum will be voted out, I assure you, and they will elect in a new Chancellor, a strong Chancellor, one who will not let our tragedy continue...”

Though she felt justified for her actions, Amidala couldn't help the surge of pity that engulfed her as she looked at Valorum's staggered, betrayed expression.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“We would see this…mirrorpool,” Master Windu said at last.

Alia nodded in relief. A slight cycling of air seemed to pass through the Council chamber as her blue eyes closed in concentration, bringing herself to her center, reaching in and pulling out…

The members of the Council watched in silent surprise as a small point of light appeared before her, growing in mass and brightness. She held out a hand in front of her, palm upward, the other held palm out toward its light. The sphere of light grew in size and intensity, forming a sort of orb above the palm of her hand.

Spots of dark color appeared amidst the glowing brightness, growing in size until they finally spun in time with the orb, staining its perfection until all that remained was a blackish blue dotted with stars, the only remnants of the brightness beneath the black. Obi-wan’s hands had dropped from the folds of his cloak, hanging at his sides as he watched the orb in Alia’s hand drift upward from her palm, splitting into two unequal parts, the smaller one remaining in her hand.

Anakin watched her eyelids flicker as she moved her palm slightly closer to the smaller orb, causing the larger one to expand as it moved upward, until it was approximately a meter in diameter. In the blackness created before them, he could see a small cruiser flying toward them. A Republic one, by the looks of it, though it seemed Corellian-made. Slowly, her eyes opened, and her story began.

“Many years ago, my father was on a mission for the Jedi Council,” she said, her eyes fixed on the mirrorpool, “That required him to break off from the formal training of his Padawan.”

She heard murmuring all around her, but continued on nonetheless, ignoring it. The poison her secret had become was beginning to drain from her, leaving her exhausted but alive; she couldn’t stop now if she tried. Passing her hand over the smaller orb, the bluish-blackness dissolved as she illustrated her words with images.

“His ship was on course to Jabiim when it was pulled from hyperspace, and when they exited, they found that they had ended up in the Extricarium Nebula.”

Alia smiled faintly, her eyes on the bands of violet and scarlet-colored gas stretching as far as the eye could see in the vastness of space. He was filled with a sense of almost childlike wonder at the unbroken band of light. The Nebula stretched on a haze, the gases seemingly frozen together for all eternity.

“The Nebula is a trickster, never in one place at one time, as is recorded by your own University of Sanbra’s scientists.”

“Continue,” came the gravelly voice of Master Yoda.

“The pilot stopped the ship, and it was encircled by the Diathim. They were very curious beings,” Alia spoke with fond sadness, “Incredibly wise but also incredibly naïve. My father was curious as well, I suppose, and he tried to sense them in the Force. What he didn’t know was how deeply the Diathim and the Force were connected.”

As they watched, one of the lights encircling the moons of what must have been Iego changed course, flying now toward the Republic ship.

“One of them entered the ship, passing through its hull to its interior. This was my mother.”

The hand not holding the smaller orb made a slight twist, and the memory switched to where it was a close-up of the bright being. The Jedi and Anakin had to raise their hands to keep from being blinded. With the exception of one other, only Alia was able to withstand the brightness that surrounded her mother’s face. The other individual looked instead at Alia, looked into the blue of her eyes that seemed to reflect the sunlight surrounding the angel’s face.

In time, however, the brightness became too great, and he was forced to look away from the electric, unnatural blue of her eyes, to shield his own behind his arm, the image of her burning into his brain. She was beautiful, exulting in the memory of her mother’s essence, the depth of their connection allowing her to feel, distantly, the emotions her mother had felt.

“She felt his call, and answered him. My mother hadn’t expect to find a kindred spirit in him, a partner in the ways of the Force. His Padawan was a flame, a spark, but all she saw was darkness around him, and was drawn only to my father, whose spirit burned as bright as any sun. She loved him, and his heart fell in love with her own. She cloaked her true form, choosing to become human for a time.”

Instantly the painfully bright glow around the angel faded, leaving a woman with bright golden hair and slightly tanned skin, her clothes a white blur and her feet bare. All could see the blue of her eyes, the same unnatural shade of blue that Alia carried in her own.

“My mother spoke to his spirit, and kissed him. In that moment, she was able to see his future, see their future, and knew they could not be together in this life. Following the will of the Force, she took their spirits, blending them until neither could tell where one ended and the other began.”

The Jedi and Anakin watched Alia’s mother bring her hands together, two circles of light following suit and becoming one golden sphere. They watched as she spread her hands apart again, and the spirits separated.

“My mother,” Alia continued, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched her father’s back, the radiant light causing his form to become shadowed and distorted, “Took a part of him, and exchanged it for a piece of her, so that she would be with him, and he would be with her, always. But it was too much for him.”

Her hand passed again over the smaller orb, and they saw the man’s black shape crumple to the floor of the ship, his black-haired Padawan rushing to his side. Unnoticed by the rest of the crew, the angel’s human form dissolved as she passed through the ship’s hull yet again, flying away toward one of the moons.

“Father never remembered what happened, not completely anyway. For his mind to survive, my mother locked away all but the strongest memories, with the hope that he might remember her in his dreams. But it didn’t matter if he remembered her or not because he was forever changed, because he carried a piece of the Diathim within him. He could feel things that others sometimes couldn’t, and sensed a greater purpose in all life, not simply those that needed help at the moment. Father became much more attune to the Force that lives and breathes within all beings, rather than the essence that brings them together as a whole.”

His breath caught in his throat as he heard her words, odd memories floating in his subconscious, teasing him while remaining just out of reach.

“I was the one thing she didn’t look for, and didn’t see in their future. When she discovered she was carrying me, she took human form, so that I could be born in my father’s image.”

The audience was held spellbound through her story, despite her attempts to keep her voice neutral. She needed them to believe her, or her father would suffer for it.

“The instant before she gave birth to me, Mother changed back into her true form, so that when I first opened my eyes, I would not be blinded by her light. I grew up among the Diathim, on the moon where I was born.”

“How could you survive on a moon without atmosphere? It has been noted that what you call Diathim are able to survive in space without protection from the vacuum, but how could a human child? Any child, for that matter?”

A flick of Alia's wrist across the smaller sphere, and the scene changed, first zooming out to view the dark planet of Iego, then narrowing in on a single moon. It was as if a grey curtain had been drawn back, and all of them were suddenly looking at Paradise.

“The moon I lived on did have an atmosphere," she said, a quirk at the edge of her lips as she remembered, "It was just cloaked by the power of my mother’s people. Before I was born, they chose a moon and created a livable environment for my mother and I to live on, for a while she had to carry me in her true form, within her very essence, and that was damaging to both of us. Her people created a home for us, and maintained its existence through the Force.”

Looking at the images projected onto the sphere in her palm, Alia could once again feel the brightness of sunlight across her face, though Iego and its moons did not orbit a star. She could feel the light breezes, could taste once again the rain as it fell from the shrouded sky.

“I don’t know how old I was when I was found, after my mother’s death. Time passed differently among my mother’s people.”

“How could you not know how old you were?”

“They told me I was nine years when Matis Despin brought me to Dysis, but I wasn’t a child. I had been born with my father’s memories; his knowledge, everything he’d learned until he’d met my mother, I knew. But my mother had locked the memories away in my mind, for my protection, as she had for my father.”

“Why would she do that?”

“The human mind cannot sustain an entire life’s worth of knowledge downloaded in a single second," Alia explained, changing the scene again, so that they were all looking a young Alia and Mala, "But with time and practice, my mother had begun to help me uncover some of the knowledge in my mind. On Dysis, the High Priestess continued my training, once the Despin Clan taught me how to speak Basic, as well as the other dialects in their sector. Theirs was the first spoken language I'd ever learned.”

“Then how did you communicate among your mother’s people?”

Without looking away from the images of Dysis she was projecting, Alia answered Master Billaba’s question.

“Diathim have no language, not one that a human would understand. Scientists have tried to study them, but sound can’t travel in space. Only those who’ve been lucky, or unlucky, enough to be drawn to Iego and had one of the Diathim on their ship might know: they speak through music.”

A faint, echoing chord could suddenly be heard as the Council watched Alia’s memories. Among them, one man’s heart began to beat faster as he recognized the haunting sound. It was one he had heard in his dreams many times, and he looked at Alia, her back ramrod straight.

“Not with words, but with notes, different scales and tones. You might be surprised how many shades of meaning a single note can reveal. But all that changed when I came to Dysis.”

Obi-wan watched as a woman of average height with red hair emerged from a cargo freighter, holding the hand of a dark-haired little girl. Even as a child, her eyes had been unnaturally blue.

“Matis had to convince her family to accept me, finally threatening to cut her ties with them if they didn’t let me stay. They did, and for a year, Matis stayed on-world; I think that helped her parents and siblings to accept me. I became a ward of their family, and when Matis had to leave to retain her position as a pilot with their company, I was allowed to stay. Another year went by, and I was adopted into the Clan.”

Her hand passed over the smaller orb, and the larger image changed to a group of people circled around a table, a meeting of some sort.

“The Council of Elders didn’t want them to; the last time anyone had been formally adopted had been over a hundred years before, and that was a special circumstance. They argued about it for weeks, but finally Lantris convinced them. Two days later, I was given my Clan name.”

The image dissolved into a happier one, a celebration set amongst trees and rope bridges, fires on the ground and dancing. Faint strains of vibrant, exotic music could be heard as they watched Alia’s memory. Sensing the Council’s impatience despite their interest, she hurried onto one of the more important events. The scene changed, showing an old woman dressed in shamanic clothing, her face worn and lined but her green eyes sharp and clear.

“Not long after I was brought to Dysis, the Despin Clan discovered I had certain…gifts. I could move things without touching them, speak without saying a word, even heal wounds. Dysis is a world of mixed cultures; thousands of years ago, long before the formation of the Republic or even the discovery of space travel, it was a world of feuding tribes, united after generations of war and peace by Laria, a Dysean without ties to any one clan. Her own had probably been wiped out by a rival warlord.

“The effects of her rule were to lead to a mixture of cultures, integrating certain customs and traditions of each of the Clans. It is a modern world with a sometimes backward view. My powers disturbed the Clan, and Matis consented to take me to the head religious leader. The High Priestess is not a Jedi, but her powers are similar, her duties much the same. As I said before, the Priestess took me as an acolyte, teaching me how to control my gifts. We also discovered my ability to physically project thoughts and emotions, even memories. It was she who taught me about my natural resistance to the Force.”

“What do you mean, resistance to the Force? Is this not a projection you have created through the Force?”

“A resistance to being manipulated with the Force,” Alia said, correcting herself, then continued, “I lived on Dysis for six years after my adoption, before it was time for me to leave.”

Another hand-pass and the images came together faster, less fluid: a young woman sneaking out of a window, her journey through the tree-city, the fear in her eyes when she was almost caught, her shadow sneaking aboard a cargo freighter marked with a black keir-cat, its purple eyes brilliant in the pre-dawn light.

“I traveled for eight years, from planet to planet, searching for something, until I finally found what I was looking for.”

The images faded to her flight in the cargo hold; after that, they began to blur together, nearly the same one over and over except for one difference: in nearly every single memory, she was alone. In the last one, she was shown firing at a carrier-droid of some kind and running toward a sleek, silver transport, accompanied by two Jedi warriors. The image drew close to one with a green lightsaber, his face twisting around to watch her blast the carrier-droid to pieces. Amidst the blaster fire and shrieking debris, Qui-Gon’s face could be clearly seen. She spoke in a quiet, clear voice:

“My father.”

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X \r\n\r\n

From the Author - -

“Bear with me, alright? I know a lot of information has been thrown at you, most of it probably seeming Mary-Sue-ish, but I promise, for the sake of the story, I had to get it all out here. And…was the ending at all suspenseful?”

"So...what do you think of Alia now?"

Author's Notes

Carruga robin Just a made up bird. As far as I know, carruga doesn’t mean anything offensive, but if I’m wrong, let me know.

University of Sanbra Canon SW establishment; leading stellar university of the time.


Chapter 16 - Sealing the Bond

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X\r\n\r\n

Chapter 15 - Sealing the Bond

This couldn’t be happening; his Master wouldn’t betray the Order, wouldn’t turn his back on everything he’d taught his Padawan. She was lying, she had to be: but Obi-wan knew truth. He could Feel it. He had felt Qui-Gon’s interest in Alia was more than his usual helpfulness toward pathetic life-forms, and during their trip to Coruscant, he had felt the connection that had formed between them. But if Alia was to be believed, that bond had always been there, and his Master, his mentor, the closest thing he had to a father, belonged to someone else.

In the silence that followed, Alia felt her self-control slipping, and could feel the beginnings of hysteria coming on as she stood perfectly still before the Council. In an effort to restrain the inevitable collapse of her shields, she made a desperate decision. She bowed low to the Council, turning around to walk toward the door. She passed where Qui-Gon and Obi-wan stood without looking at them, to where Anakin was waiting, his eyes wide. Without saying a word, she took his hand and walked out of the chamber, closing the doors behind her with a slight wave of her hand.

Silence had fallen over the Council chamber as the members tried to wrap their minds around Alia’s story. While others struggled to understand exactly how such a union might occur, Yoda closed his mind to the difficulties of the time, and chose to meditate in the silence that had ensued.

Light enthroned in darkness, stars upon stars swept into a hand gloved as black as space, as powerful as any Jedi; and in the heart of this conflict, two stars shining: one burning brightly despite the hand encircled around it, its intensity searing to Yoda’s eyes. The energy of the other was no less concentrated, but less stark, less clear in its brightness; the circling power around the latter star was more clouded, less certain of its path. Yoda sensed a turning point in this one’s future, a decision to be made that was crucial to the fate of the Force. Of this, he was certain.

Once the doors behind Alia had closed, as one the Masters turned to where Qui-Gon and Obi-wan stood, still dazed from the revelations that came from the woman with unnatural eyes and an even more unnatural birth.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

Once she heard the slight sound of the door closing, Alia let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Her heart constricted and her mind was uplifted and dim all at once. She didn’t know how to feel as she let go of Anakin’s hand, sagging against a wall with sudden weariness.

“Alia?”

Her eyes heavy, she gave in slightly to her body’s sudden demand for rest, and allowed her head to fall back against the duracrete wall.

“Yes, Anakin?"

“Are-are you real? I mean, really real?”

He watched as a sudden smile played on her lips, a smile that he now realized was similar to the slight grin Qui-Gon used to give him back on Tatooine.

“Yes, Anakin, I’m real,” she said, her eyes closed even as she held out a hand to him, “Touch me, if you want.”

Taking at her hand, Anakin felt a sudden kinship with this girl; they had both grown up without fathers, had both left mothers behind, had both been taken in by Qui-Gon, and he knew, somehow, that they were tied together, for better or for worse. With an insight that went beyond his years, Anakin looked past her physical tiredness, and Touched at the sadness that was in her soul.

Her eyes flew open, startling him like they always did with the intensity of their color. Anakin looked into them for as long as he could, before finally having to look away.

“I believe you, Alia.”

Something welled up inside the blue-eyed woman; it might have been hope, it might have been desperation, but it gave her the will to push away her despair, and force herself to stand.

“At least someone does,” Alia said, running a trembling hand through her hair. Giving him a shaky smile, she tightened her hold on his hand, and together they walked to the elevator, neither of them feeling the need to speak. When the doors opened, neither of them said a word, content to be with each other and examine their own thoughts.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

“Explain.”

Master Windu’s voice was hard and uncompromising, yet it took a few moments for Qui-Gon to focus and reply. Explain? How could he, when he didn’t understand it himself?

“I cannot, Master.”

“This is impossible to believe, yet I sensed no deception, no lies when the girl spoke,” said Master Depa Billaba, her soft voice sharply contrasting that of the dark-skinned Head of Council.

“Deny you her claim, Master Qui-Gon?” asked Master Yaddle, compassion and sympathy warring with disbelief in her brown-green eyes.

“I…do not know,” he replied, shock still racing through his veins.

/ I have a daughter, / he thought, dazed / I have a daughter. / Words, images, feelings….they were crowding him, flooding his mind in a hazy whirlwind. Her eyes, the eyes of…..He heard her name, heard the warm, beautiful song climb higher and higher until he was flying with her once more. / Once more? I’ve never flown in mid-air. / And yet he had...and had not.

He remembered moonlit nights of passion and happiness, of blazing rows and their passionate make-ups. Their home, built at the edge of a lake and bordered by a forest….the days they spent with their family / I have no family, the Jedi are my family. / and the nights where they expressed with their bodies how much they loved each other. But none of that was real; Qui-Gon knew his past, knew that none of the memories rushing through his brain were true, and yet they were.

“True it is that a mission to Jabiim you were given, and true it is that reported you did of a delay,” remarked Yoda, his face expressionless despite the curiosity that raged beneath the surface.

“Yes, Master,” agreed Qui-Gon absently, still trying to sort through the sudden onslaught of his mind.

Mace Windu shared a look with Yoda, and together they silently agreed that Qui-Gon Jinn needed further examination, one more personal that would perhaps discomfit his Padawan if he was allowed to remain.

“Padawan Kenobi, wise it would be for your Master to confer in private with us,” said Yoda, unusually direct in his polite demand.

The young man nodded slightly, bowed, and silently exited the room. As one, the Council looked back to Qui-Gon, and as Yoda leaned forward, he spoke softly but with all the authority his eight hundred and fifty years of experience granted him.

“From the beginning, it is wise to start. What you remember, tell us.”

X X X X \r\n\r\n

As they walked together to the lift, Anakin couldn’t help but notice how distracted Alia was, her body not moving as gracefully as it usually did. When they reached the doors, he turned to her.

“Alia,” he said, his voice causing her to turn toward him, “What’s wrong now?”

She laughed, giving him a small smile.

“I’m just trying to sort through all this, Anakin,” she answered, her voice soft, “I’ve had to hide who I am my whole life, even from my family on Dysis. I don’t have to hide any longer, but I’ve never done anything else.”

“You didn’t hide from me,” said Anakin, his senses picking up on the guilt she had spent years trying to bury.

“I hadn’t known you long enough, Anakin,” Alia replied, smiling softly as she looked down at him, “You never asked questions that I couldn’t answer.”

Still smiling, she removed her hand from his to place it around his shoulders in affection. Giving him a squeeze as they walked down the corridors, Alia marked at how tall he was already. Beneath her fingertips she could sense the changes in his body even now, could imagine how his limbs might stretch to fit his promised height. They walked in companionable silence, their footsteps light upon the cold tile of the Temple floors. When at last they came to the lift and the doors opened at their approach, Alia bent down suddenly, grasping the boy’s hands in her own.

“Anakin,” she said, searching his eyes, “I need time to think, and I don’t think I’m ready to face all those people out there. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can I trust you to make sure Jar Jar gets back alright?”

“Of course you can,” he replied, huffing indignantly.

Alia smiled, raising a hand to cup his cheek.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said softly, “I should’ve known I could trust you. Forgive me?”

The twinkle in her eyes made him suddenly shy, and he dropped his head, murmuring nonsense under his breath. His new friend laughed and ruffled a hand through his hair before standing upright.

“Silly boy,” she said, her smile wide.

“But what’ll I tell him?” Anakin asked suddenly as he was ushered into the lift alone.

“The truth.”

“All of it?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.”

Shaking his head at her simple answer, Anakin allowed the lift doors to close on his friend, her tall body already turning away from him. Casting his eyes around the small compartment, he wondered how she would get back to their rooms.

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Author's Notes

Duracrete Canon Star Wars material. Go to the SW website for more details.


Chapter 17 - Rite of Aidoskai

"You don't like how this chapter goes? Read the whole thing first, then read the author's note at the bottom, then flame me. Got it?"

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 17 - Right of Aidoskai

Alia watched the lift doors close out of the corner of her eye, her shoulders growing lighter, as if a great burden had been lifted from them. She walked quietly down the corridor, moving close to the walls and letting her hand trail against the smooth stone. Letting her mind ramble about, she wandered the halls of the Temple, taking care to notice how the light from Coruscant's sun slanted its way inside the building and the way its shadows were cast. After a few moments, she began to take more notice of the corridors, admiring the intricacy of their designs and the motifs carved into them. Alia felt a sudden longing to see more of her father's home.

/ Just a quick look. /

Unable to refuse, Alia took in a deep breath, and walked toward the door nearest to her, gasping as she crossed the doorway. The room around her was enormous, the ceiling almost ten meters above her in height. Placing a hand lightly on one of the pure-white walls, Alia realized that they were made of Rystallan alabaster, and was astounded at the sheer age of the stone. / It must have been brought here thousands of years ago. / Awed by the stone's beauty and resilience, Alia reluctantly removed her hand and surveyed the surrounding room. / I must've come in through a challenger's entrance, / she thought, looking around curiously.

All around her, in a vast circle, was an amphitheater, where sunlight poured in from above through a huge domed window. There was a railing, also made of Rystallan alabaster, she noted, that ran the entire circuit of the middle ring; two openings were at each end, one immediately in front of her and the other on the far side of the arena. Beyond it was a massive stone motif, which drew her attention like a moth to a flame.

Walking quickly, Alia became fascinated by the figures of the sculpted mural, humans and other species locked in combat, with an ancient script flowing vertically downward in regular intervals. Though unable to read the ancient language, Alia was struck by its beauty. Moving even closer to the mural, she became engrossed in its intricate designs and detailed illustrations, and soon lost all track of time.

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/ This is all her fault, / Obi-wan ranted mentally, stalking down the hall. / If we had never met her none of this would have happened. / Obi-wan was being irrational...he knew he was being irrational...but for some reason he just couldn’t care. Too engrossed in his thoughts to be humiliated by the Council’s dismissal, Obi-wan's stride grew longer, more agitated as he moved away from the Council Chamber.

A small part of him recognized the anger within him as being unfounded, but he ignored it. It was much more satisfying to rail at that thrice-damned woman. / She's been nothing but trouble from the beginning, / [/i] he fumed. / Always pushing at things better left alone. Always prodding where she has no business in the first place! /

Heedless of where his feet were taking him, Obi-wan continued his mental tirade against Alia without pause. It was only as he was passing the entrance to the Practice Arena that he stopped. He could Feel her presence just beyond the door, and it flamed his smoldering temper even more that she would once again intrude where she did not belong. Checking the tide of his anger, Obi-wan quietly entered the theater, taking care to ensure the doors shut firmly behind him.

From his vantage point, he could see that she was in front of the Bodhi Effigia. He snorted. / Almost plastered against it, more like. / He walked confidently across the sun-warmed sands of the center arena, the weight of lightsaber at his side comforting him. / That's something she doesn't have. /

“I don't believe I thanked you for the display of skill you demonstrated for us back on Naboo," he called out, stopping a few feet behind where she stood, "But I must say, I didn’t suspect such talent to be hiding a fascination with ogling meagerly attired statuary as well.”

Alia whirled around, startled at the sound of Obi-wan’s voice. She hadn’t expected anyone to look for her, much less to find her gawking at ancient art. Blood flushed her face at the mocking irony of his words, causing her to cringe slightly and feel like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. At that thought, Alia's back snapped back into place as anger flashed in her eyes. She’d be damned before she’d let him castigate her like a wayward schoolgirl!

“I think you made yourself very clear about THAT,” Alia replied acidly, her embarrassment causing her snap at him, “And I also think it’s interesting that you'd chastise me for ogling when I've caught you looking at my ass in the exact same way."

Obi-wan's face reddened, though whether it was from anger, embarrassment, or outrage Alia wasn't certain.

"You have some gall to make such an accusation," he said while gritting his teeth, his disgust apparent, "To come here with your lies and impossible claims."

/ Ah, so that's it, then. I really should've guessed. / Alia shook her head slightly, rolling her eyes upward in supplication before looking at the Padawan once more.

"So, you don't believe me?" she asked, trying to control her temper at his belligerent attitude. Why did I think it would be any different this time?

"No, I don't," Obi-wan spat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think you made the whole thing up; quite clever really, using whatever device you did to project those images. You're quite talented for a credit-digging shrew."

He sneered at her, his mouth working itself into a vicious smirk. "I think your mother was just another whore spreading her legs for the first person to grease her palm with credits, and was too stupid to remember which one got her pregnant."

The sheer viciousness of his contempt shocked Alia so greatly that for a moment, she could only stare stupidly at him, her arms dangling at her sides. Her vivid blue eyes were frozen in shock as she tried to comprehend what he had said. When she did, however, Alia's electric eyes glowed dangerously for a moment, her gaze blistering with blue fire as she stared at him. The air around her began to crackle with energy, sending up sparks that fell hissing into the sands of the practice ring.

"How dare you," Alia said, her voice low and dangerous, "How dare you insult my mother!"

The crackling of energies around her body made Obi-wan falter inward slightly, but his outward calm remained intact. In an imitation of his Master, he raised a challenging eyebrow in her direction. A hot stab of fury lashed through Alia, its intensity causing her to take a step forward. She knew that look...she knew what it meant. After all, half of her memories were Qui-Gon's, and Obi-wan's arrogant attempt at imitating him pushed Alia over the edge.

"Aidoskai," she replied viciously, spitting at his feet. Her blue eyes were glittering in her fury, and narrowed to points of steel as she spoke the ancient challenge. "I bind thee, Obi-wan Kenobi, to ritual combat. I call thee to aidoskai."

His visible shock at her knowledge of the ancient Jedi rite amused Alia greatly and she gave him a great bow, reminiscent of when she had first met him and his Master...her father. As she straightened, the half-Angel chuckled darkly, raising her own eyebrow in defiance.

"Surely, Sir Padawan," she mocked condescendingly, "You do know about the aidoskai? I thought all Jedi were taught about the ritual challenge."

Alia's eyes narrowed as she spoke again, her voice dripping with disdain, "At least, from what I can remember."

Obi-wan's face turned purple with suppressed emotion. Alia watched in morbid fascination as the vein at his temple began to pulse visibly.

“Name your terms,” Obi-wan replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

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As soon as the hoverbox had docked, Amidala was up and moving quickly, seemingly eager to leave the Rotunda. Eirtaé couldn't blame her; whatever ideas she'd had about the Chancellor...about the Senate itself before coming here today...had been shattered, leaving a vile taste in her mouth.

"Ah, Your Highness!" called out a voice from behind them.

The young Queen, to her credit, did not visibly flinch at the Neimoidian accent, but whatever little emotion had expressed itself across her face was now completely erased. Halting with quiet grace, Amidala slowly turned around, the jeweled cylinders moving from side-to-side as they dangled from the headdress that adorned her long brown hair.

"Representative Kiljoi," she acknowledged, her brown eyes expressionless.

"I hope this unfortunate business can be settled peacefully by the time you journey back to your planet," the Neimoidian said, a smarmy grin upon his face, "Hopefully by then the Senate will have decided a course of action to pursue."

"I do not recall saying whether or not I will return to Naboo," Amidala said, her voice icy, "You presume too much, Representative Kiljoi."

"Oh, come now, Your Highness," Kiljoi responded. Eirtaé was certain that his smile had turned malicious as he continued, "I cannot begin to express the pleasure with which I look forward to your farewell gala."

"You are mistaken, Representative. There will be no g-"

"As you should, Sucha," Senator Palpatine interrupted, earning himself a fiery reproachful look from his Queen, which he ignored, "I have it on excellent authority that it will be a night worth remembering. The Queen and I both hope, as well, that this business between us will be concluded before then. Unfinished business, after all, is hardly conducive to any further dealings we might have. And now, if you'll excuse us, the Queen is feeling a trifle out of sorts, and must retire to her chambers."

Without further ado, Palpatine fairly hustled her back to the Senate Guest Quarters. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the Senator turned and glared at his furious Queen.

"You must be careful what you say, your Highness," he said, his voice wintry, "Even the walls have ears in this place."

"What do you think you're doing, Senator?" Queen Amidala snarled, her calm momentarily vanishing, "You usurp my authority to make my own decisions and make me appear weak in front of that Neimoidian gamashton, and now you have the gall to inform me that I'm going to be hosting a party?"

"It would be wise, Your Highness," the Senator replied, his voice uncharacteristically hard, "If you were to at least appear willing to observe the Capitol's customs."

"It is an irrational custom," she hissed back at him, her brown eyes momentarily losing their implacable calm, "Not to mention absurd, nonsensical, and unreasonable. It is a custom I have no wish to 'observe,' Senator. I will not mock the suffering of my people by adhering to the venal traditions of a weak and irresponsible government."

"Careful, Your Highness," Palpatine said softly, his gray eyes sharp and wintry. His voice was even less warm. "It would not do for the other Senators to hear you speak in such a way about their beloved Assembly. Particularly not if you wish to use such a gathering as a means to garner some unofficial support."

The Queen looked away, unable to say anything. Palpatine stared at her for a long moment, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, leaving Amidala alone, save for her handmaidens. When the door shut behind him, the maroon-cloaked Rabé was at her Queen's side instantly, offering comfort.

"What am I to do?"Amidala whispered, oblivious to the handmaiden at her side, wholly absorbed by the unfair and absurd duty expected of her, "How can I plan party, for Nammu's sake, when my people are starving...dying...how can they expect me to be so cruel and unfeeling?"

"Etiquette and protocol often deviate from reason, my Queen," Eirtaé replied quietly, her heart aching for her fourteen-year-old Queen, "What may once seem a good idea at policy, will often become outdated before its time. Outdated, but not removed."

The blonde handmaiden watched helplessly as the Queen buried her head in her hands. It wasn't fair...any of this. The Queen wasn't even as old as Eirtaé; why did the Federation have to do this now? For while her predecessor, King Veruna, had been forced to abdicate his position due to an old scandal, Eirtaé could remember her father talking proudly of Veruna's gift at diplomacy and intelligent counsel. That counsel...that experience...would do wonders for her Queen, the blonde handmaiden thought.

"Send for Senator Palpatine," Amidala said, her voice muffled, "I must tell him to prepare for this accursed gala."

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Meanwhile...

Alia looked at Obi-wan with a measuring glance, studying his movements.

"Staff combat," she said at last, her eyes calculating as she gave him an unpleasant smile, "Disable only. No use of Force-capabilities. After all, I wouldn't want to injure you too badly. Father would never forgive me."

At the mention of Qui-Gon, Obi-wan's muscles visibly clenched and his gray-blue eyes flashed.

Alia simply arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to move. Obi-wan shrugged off his cloak, his eyes burning with raw anger. He'd teach her a lesson she'd never forget. Moving toward the endpost of the white railing, Obi-wan reached around and unlocked the long chest hidden behind it, retrieving two quarterstaffs from its depths. Tossing one carelessly behind him, he walked to the near side of the practice ring. Obi-wan bowed to her, mimicking her mocking posture, before settling into a ready stance.

Catching the airborne staff easily, Alia moved into her own stance, holding the staff in a loose, but secure, grip. Bowing to him in response, Alia schooled her face into an expressionless mask.

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Their first few bouts were tentative and half-hearted, as each tried to determine the capabilities of their opponent. Obi-wan, especially, was having a difficult time maneuvering Alia into a vulnerable position, as he wasn't used to fighting without his Force-abilities. Suddenly spying an opening, he pounced.

Spinning, Obi-wan swung the butt of his staff around hard, cracking it against her jaw. Blood spraying from her mouth, Alia kept her vivid blue eyes locked on his form, every hair on her body...every fiber of her clothing...every sense tingling as she watched him, circling with him to keep from being surprised again.

The Jedi Padawan watched her warily, straining the limits of his Sight to discern her next move. Sensing his distraction, Alia lunged forward, unleashing a sudden flurry of furious thwacks, cracks, and slashes. With a yell, she brought her staff down hard atop the hand that Obi-wan hadn't reacted quickly enough to save.

Caught off guard by her unexpected assault, Obi-wan let go abruptly from his staff, cradling it with one hand, and reacted by swinging his injured fist, cracking it against her chin. Quick as a flash, Alia retreated backward, her own staff held before her defensively to block his counterattack.

“Tut, tut,” Alia panted slightly, swiping the blood from her broken lip with her tongue as she moved away from him. She needed to catch her breath; it had been too long since she’d last fought this hard, “What would Father say about his precious Padawan losing his precious objectivity?”

Obi-wan saw red, and the last of his control snapped.

“He is my Master!” he screamed, bringing the pole down from high above his head in a two-handed grip, forgetting the restriction against Force-enhancement as he rammed as much Power as possible into his staff.

With a loud thwack! Alia met his staff with hers, her muscles straining to keep him at bay. Once his words registered, Alia gaped at him in shock. Taking advantage of her stupefaction, Obi-wan suddenly retrieved his staff and swung it at her legs.

Alia snapped out of her confusion just in time, Pulling at the energies around her to jump backward, narrowing her eyes at him as she blocked his subsequent advances.

"Is that...What this...Is about?" she bit out incredulously in between thrusts.

Infuriated by his petty jealousy, Alia felt another rush of adrenaline and pushed upward, pressing him back in a sudden series of strikes and jabs. Forced to parry and sidestep her attacks, Obi-wan was livid that she had managed to put him on the defensive, and opened himself instead to his offensive stance. Quickly flipping up and over her head, he swung his staff upward to ward off her strike to his head.

Obi-wan's defense left his right side vulnerable. Using the muscles she'd developed over years of climbing the massive trees of Dysis, Alia compressed her left leg unnaturally perpendicular against her chest, coiling her energy like a spring, before ramming the sole of her foot into his gut. Obi-wan spun around, catching her follow-up roundhouse kick square in the jaw.

Nausea and dizziness overwhelming him, Obi-wan stepped backward, tripping over the staff swiping at his knees. He fell to the ground, winded and seeing stars, his own staff clutched tightly in his hand. At the edge of his vision, Obi-wan could see a blurry shape flying toward him. The air left his lungs in a single second as he felt a heavy weight slam itself into his chest.

“Do you yield?” Alia asked, her voice cold and demanding.

“You cheated,” Obi-wan gasped instead, struggling to focus.

Alia jabbed the edge of her staff into his throat, placing it firmly against his larynx as she straddled his chest.

“So did you,” she retorted, “Now...Do. You. Yield?”

“Never,” he rasped, stars beginning to form along his field of vision. For a moment, he thought he saw two of the stars pull back into her eyes and glow an eerie glittering blue, before fading into the blackness of her pupils.

“Anger is your enemy,” Alia hissed, her eyes blazing as she dug the staff deeper into his throat, “Control is your ally. Harness your anger, control your enemy...and he will fall.”

Time seemed to still as they stared at each other, locked in place. Slowly, Alia removed the end of her staff from his throat. As suddenly as it had stopped, time restarted, and in one fluid motion Alia swung the staff toward his face.

"STOP!"

The bellowing voice ricocheted across the walls of the amphitheater, and Alia’s staff froze not a half-decimeter Obi-wan's temple. Neither looked at Qui-Gon, who was fast approaching them, so lost were they to each other's gaze. Acutely feeling Obi-wan's panting body between her straddling thighs, Alia let the staff fall from her hands, where it hit the sand with a muted thunk.

"Let your heart know anger, yet do not sin," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly as she rose from her position across his chest. Her vivid blue eyes still upon him, Alia stepped back to let Obi-wan stand.

"What is going on here?" was Qui-Gon's furious question as he came up to them, his daughter looming over his Padawan, who was laid out on the sand.

For a moment, Obi-wan could only stare at Alia. Now that the red heat of his anger was passed, Obi-wan was appalled at what he had done. Something of his horror must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew, the crackling energy around Alia's body and the righteous fury in her vivid eyes seemed to die away.

Ashamed at his loss of self-control, Obi-wan turned away from her, ignoring her outstretched hand as he stood, oblivious to the hurt confusion that flashed across her face before being quickly schooled into a non-expression.

"I will not repeat myself," Qui-Gon said tightly while looking from one to the other, his voice demanding in spite of its softness.

Tearing away her eyes away from the man she had almost killed, Alia stared hard at the sand at her feet, seemingly trying to memorize the exact position of each particle before snapping her head upward, staring at Obi-wan.

"Well?" the Jedi Master uttered acerbically, annoyed by their continued silence.

"By rite of aidoskai I challenged thee, and by duel we hath fought," Alia intoned, her eyes and voice expressionless as she recited the victor's oath, "By trial our blood-feud hath ended and in peace we shall go forth as fellow warriors, closer than kin or lovers. So shall it be."

"So shall it be," Obi-wan responded, feeling his throat constrict in the face of her inscrutable blue eyes.

Her gaze enigmatic, Alia turned and walked way, her feet making lonely little sand clouds as she passed.

"Stop," Qui-Gon commanded again, throwing up a Force-wall in desperation. / She can't just leave before I have answers. /

He hadn't expected her to step through his barrier as if it wasn't even there, and so could only stand nonplussed as Alia did just that, leaving the door behind her to close with a quiet hiss. Staring at the door with a slightly befuddled expression, Qui-Gon shook his head, trying to shake away the myriad thoughts running rampant through his brain, and focused on the young man at his side.

"Obi-wan," he said, silently commanding his Padawan to look at him. But Obi-wan, though his head rose, could not lift his eyes from the floor. "Not an hour ago I stood before the Council and told them you were ready to face the trials."

The Jedi Master gave a great sigh, before reaching out to grasp his Obi-wan's chin and tilting it, forcing his Padawn's eyes upward to where he stared at him for a long moment. The power behind his Master's gaze was unlike anything Obi-wan had ever experienced, but its unknown depth, while disconcerting, was not frightening. After a while, Qui-Gon's eyes refocused, and he put a hand on his Padawan's shoulder.

"I stand by that decision."

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From the Author - -
"If anyone is upset about how I've portrayed Obi-wan, let me say this: we know he feels strongly about Qui-Gon. We know this at the end of Phantom Menace because of how he fights Darth Maul. And he's been Qui-Gon's apprentice for a little over twelve years by this point, so I think it's perfectly reasonable to assume that he'd feel as strongly about him here as at the end of PM.

"About his irrational reaction to Alia's claim and the subsequent fight, haven't you ever taken it for granted that something belongs to you (or the equivalent) and then find out that it belongs to somebody else. And when it’s something you care deeply about, you really don’t want to give it up.

“Obi-wan is human, remember that, people, and for those not in the know, just before PM, Obi-wan nearly abandoned the Jedi Order (and Qui-Gon) on Mellida/Daan, to join the Young Movement to end a civil war. So, he's not a saint, and as such, is completely capable of feeling jealousy and acting irrationally. Jedi aren't perfect, just very good at hiding their imperfections."

From the Author 2 - -
"I had a lot of help in writing the action scene, as I'm more used to writing scenes with drama and emotions...I guess action could be an extension of that, as emotions run really high in an action sequence, but any way, I had help from Lady Turner's website, Camy at Writing-dot-com, and Marilynn Byerly's website."

From the Author 3 - -
"Be angry, yet do not sin." Ephesians 4:26. Yes, this is a Bible verse...yes, I am a Christian...and no, I am not proselytizing. This is a very wise saying, no matter what faith you follow.

Author's Notes
Bodhi from my sources, this means "enlightenment" in Sanskrit. If this is incorrect, let me know what the correct term is, and I'll fix it. Thanks.

Effigia effigy.

Aidoskai translation “regain dignity.”

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Chapter 18 - Apologies

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 18 - Apologies

Something was wrong. When Anakin had opened the door at Alia’s voice, she’d walked in limping; with startled eyes, he'd seen bruises on one side of her face and blood spilling from a split in her bottom lip.

“What happened, Alia?” he asked, alarm written plainly across his young face.

When an hour had passed without her returning to their room, Anakin had grown worried, even though Jar Jar had said that she was like that sometimes; excited one moment, moody the next, sometimes happy to be around people, sometimes going off on her own. Well, not those exact words. Looking at her now, he suddenly realized what some of her injuries meant.

“You were fighting, weren’t you?’

“Sparring," was Alia's quick reply, "In a practice room near the Council chamber. Don’t worry, Anakin, I’ll just need a few minutes before I’m back to the ravishing beauty you saw at the hospital.”

Anakin watched as she limped over to the center of the room, looked on as she lowered herself to a seating position, grimacing slightly. Hunkering down to her level, he asked softly, “Who hurt you, Alia?”

Touched by his concern, Alia shook her head.

“No one, Anakin; I really was sparring in the practice room,” she assured him, “It’s been so long since I last practiced, it’s a miracle I don’t have more bruises. This’ll teach me to pick a fight with a Jedi. At least without knowing my own weaknesses.”

She laughed, but Anakin didn't think it was meant to be funny.

“Alright,” he replied, not completely convinced but getting there.

Giving him a small smile, she folded her knees beneath her, crisscrossing her legs. Softly, deftly, Alia stretched out a mental hand to the energies around her...within her...asking quietly for the strength to Heal herself as the High Priestess had taught her. Just as softly, she felt an answering Call, and with practiced ease, she eased her mind into the familiar warmth of the Goddess Womb...the Force...its power flowing around her and within her, pouring into her cuts and bruises, eager to fill them with strength and Healing.

Sitting quietly, Alia lowered her mental shields, all of them except one to retain the privacy of her mind; the Force...Goddess Womb...surrounded her, filling the holes inside her heart and soothing the bruises of her body. At last, though, her need was met, and she let go of her bond, rebuilding her shields carefully.

“How did you do that?” Anakin asked, his eyes wild at seeing the bruising miraculously disappear.

Alia opened her eyes, the usual afterglow of her communion with the Goddess returning her skin to its normal healthy color.

“It’s a gift given to me by my mother’s people,” she answered, testing her muscles by shrugging.

“But how?” Anakin persisted, sitting back on his heels.

“I asked the Force...Goddess Womb...for strength. For Healing.”

“You asked it.”

Alia sighed at his skepticism, knowing where this was going.

“I can take it by force, but taking without asking demands a higher price. Most of the time I use my own power anyway, not the Goddess W...the Force.”

“What about now?”

“I needed more than just physical healing, Anakin.”

She wouldn’t say anymore than that, and stood abruptly, walking quickly to the refresher. At the sound of water being switched on, Anakin turned his head toward the fresher, incredulous. She was taking a shower again?

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Switching on the water unit, the brunette stripped and stood beneath the warm spray, allowing it to rush over her body, scalding her skin with its heat. Holding up her hands, Alia wasn’t surprised to find them shaking; she was lucky to be alive. The look in Obi-wan’s eyes had been…terrifying; his eyes had been so cold, as if they were dead to anything else except what drove him. And by Goddess, she knew what had driven him. Leaning backward so the spray would hit her chest, Alia inhaled deeply, breathing in the warm steam to calm her lungs and heart rate. She gave a short, near-hysterical bark of laughter as her mind began to automatically review the last few days.

She’d been on a routine visit to Naboo, looking forward to spending time with her Gungan friends, and then everything went to Malachor. It had all begun nicely enough; without even realizing it, she’d found the one thing she thought impossible: her father. And even then, she’d had to keep her identity a secret, afraid of what he might do once he found out. Then he saved Jar Jar, and Alia knew that she’d never be able to repay him for her friend’s life.

After that had been their oh-so-memorable freeing of the Queen and their fight to the royal transport, where she’d been selected for the dubious honor of being infected with a drakar. Things had gotten better though, once they were on their way to Tatooine, and she’d been able to spend some time talking with Qui-Gon while Obi-wan was fiddling with some complicated piece of machinery.

She remembered how she’d wheedled Obi-wan into playing deji with her. Pulling her face into a grimace, she recalled the lovely feeling of the drakar’s first movements, and the pain that had caused her to slip into unconsciousness and apparently freak everyone out. Waking up in the medical bay hadn’t been pleasant either, until she’d become friends with Anakin, who had been waiting for her to tell him a story.

Then Qui-Gon’s wonderful...well, not interrogation...Alia rolled her eyes before dipping her head beneath the shower nozzle. That had been pleasant. Then the meeting with the Council…finally being able to tell someone her secret…being able to tell him. And after that had been the emotional dumping of a lifetime, for both her and Obi-wan.

Obi-wan.

Even now, despite everything, the thought of him still made Alia's knees unsteady. Swearing at her weakness, she slammed her fist against the wall, her mouth spewing expletives as the resulting pain set her nerves on fire, tears falling from her eyes.

/ Why? / Why did every moment in her life have to be cursed with both joy and pain? Both happiness and suffering? /Why can I always understand why someone hates me, but I can't hate them back? / Instead of screaming her frustration, quiet sobs tore at Alia's throat as she curled up in the corner of the fresher unit, her naked body leaning against the tiled wall, as she wept at the unfairness of it all.

After awhile, the water began to cool, sending a chill through her already tired body. Raising her weary head, Alia stood, leaning her body into the tepid spray, trying to relax her tired muscles. Healing could only do so much, after all.

Sensing a presence beyond the door, she called out, “Who is it?”

“Alia, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan are here,” Anakin whispered loudly into the door.

She froze under the water, then swore softly. The shower had done what it was intended to do: her strength was back to normal and even though her heart still ached from the bruises that had formed from Obi-wan’s cruel words, it would heal. From bitter experience, Alia knew that pain of any kind would fade, if not entirely heal, once given enough time.

“I’ll be just a moment,” she called out, quickly shutting off the water.

Reaching for a towel, she hurriedly stepped out of the shower, drying her hair and body vigorously. / Why, Goddess, are they here? Now? / was the only thing she could think as she threw on her shell necklace, and a plain white tunic-dress that reached the floor, hiding her toes. Reaching for a white sash, she belted the roomy dress at her waist. Giving her wet hair one last squeeze, she looked around for her brush. Checking herself in the mirror one last time, she unfastened the locking bar and threw open the door.

Qui-Gon looked up at the loud bang in time to see Alia cringe slightly, then begin to hurriedly brush her long hair. She smiled to Anakin who had retreated to a far window to play with a datapad he’d found lying around, who nodded and stood, poking at the Gungan snoring next to him. Jar Jar woke immediately and followed Anakin into the adjoining room. Rising to his feet, the words he’d rehearsed in his head suddenly stuck in his throat as she turned her blue eyes on to him. This was his daughter.

His daughter. A child of his spirit made flesh. The enormity of it all suddenly crashed into him, and he felt dizzy with the sudden onslaught of emotions he could feel: anger, betrayal, shame, happiness, resentment...and love. An intense, powerful love that shocked Qui-Gon to his core.

A cool touch to his face brought Qui-Gon back to reality, and he looked into the pair of blue eyes that had haunted his sleep for years. Alia had laid aside her hairbrush, bringing a hand to his cheek, and smiled sweetly, carefully rebuilding her shields the way she had been taught by the High Priestess. Qui-Gon felt her cool hand begin to slip away, and caught it in his own, bringing it between them.

“Alia,” Qui-Gon said in wonder. He had felt the construction of her shields, and was suddenly filled with questions. Before he could begin however, Alia raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” she said.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in query.

“Don’t,” Alia repeated firmly, letting go of his hand and sitting down on a couch, “If you came here to apologize for Obi-wan, just don’t. He did nothing wrong.”

The other eyebrow rose, and even Obi-wan, standing at the door, was surprised. Glancing quickly in his direction, Alia's gaze darted back to Qui-Gon, and she gestured for him to sit. Lowering his tall form to the couch opposite her, Qui-Gon waited expectantly for her to continue. Alia looked again at Obi-wan, unable to read his expression, then breathed in deeply and turned back to Qui-Gon. Even now, she was still unable to look him in the eye, now that he knew who she was.

“Ever since Naboo, you’ve been interested in me. I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding my eyes. I knew you’d figure it out eventually, I just didn’t want it to end so soon,” Alia explained, placing her brush upon the small table between them.

“I think he was beginning to warm up to me on Tatooine, then I had to go all mental because of a stupid eater-droid. I guess that’s where you picked up Anakin. You...You have a way about you, Qui-Gon,” she said hesitantly, suddenly shy of explaining the desperation Obi-wan had felt to him, “A way that makes people trust you...care about you. An-and it’s very easy for that trust, that caring, to become more.

"I know Anakin’s important, somehow," she said quietly, "In your grand scheme of things, but with you saying what you did in front of the Council, and me claiming you to be my biological father, Obi-wan felt as if he was losing you, and when he confronted me, he lost control.”

She looked up to see him glancing at his Padawan, and turned to Obi-wan as well, surprising him.

“Believe it or not, I know what you’re feeling, Obi-wan,” Alia said quietly, her gaze beseeching, “I’ve felt it everyday of my life; you saw the mirrorpool."

Watching as the Padawan nodded uncertainly, she continued, "There was a permanent one on my mother’s moon; every day we would go down to it and see what Father was doing that day. Mother could feel, but never understand, my jealousy of his Padawan. What right did he have to love him? I was his child...his blood-child...but everyday I'd watch Qui-Gon love him in my place. On bad days, I'd get angry and throw whatever I could at them, hating that he could be so happy without me."

Alia shrugged, her gaze forlorn and aching.

"But nothing I did could ever change the love my own father felt for his Padawan and not for me, and I hated myself for being what I was. For being incomplete."

All of them remembered the last time Alia had used that phrase, and only now did the two Jedi begin to understand what her childhood had been like.

“Don’t you see?” Alia asked suddenly, surprising Obi-wan by looking deeply into his eyes, “I could never take your place with him, no matter how hard I tried; neither could Anakin. He will never care for me the way he cares for you.”

Obi-wan stared at her in surprise, her heartfelt words moving him more than he would care to admit; somehow, Alia had reversed their roles: she was the one begging him, pleading with him to understand. He studied her face, unable to bring himself to look into her eyes, and noticed with sudden shame that her lip was still split. Uncrossing his arms, the Jedi Padawan took a hesitant step forward, then another, then another, until he was able to seat himself beside her.

“I am sorry for my actions and my words,” Obi-wan said wholeheartedly, then asked softly, “Why did you not Heal yourself?”

Shy about his closeness, Alia laughed nervously, running a hand through her damp hair, before tapping a finger at the split in her bottom lip.

“I did. This I just decided to keep, to remember you by. Like it?”

Obi-wan did his best not to blush at her teasing, but a quick look at his Master confirmed his embarrassment. Alia noticed the look pass between them, and laughed again. Alia stood, the Jedi rising to their feet as well.

“Now that we’ve dealt with that, I need to get ready for the party tonight,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste, “Apparently the Federation representative was able to bind the Queen to one last hurrah before she left. Slimy bastard.”

Qui-Gon merely raised an eyebrow at the expletive, and she smiled brightly at him.

“We will take our leave then,” he said, bowing to her.

He turned toward to the door, his Padawan at his heels; as his cloak whipped past the motion sensor and out of sight, Alia collapsed against the couch, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

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Chapter 19 - The Dance, Part I

"I make no excuses or apologies. You don't like my inserted scenes, tell me why. You don't like my party...too bad. Leave me a review telling me why. Thanks."

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 19 - The Dance, Part I

The coldness Obi-wan had felt from Qui-Gon was gone, replaced by an indifference that troubled him. He ached for the familiar warmth of his bond with his Master, but Obi-wan understood that this was how it had to be. He’d lost control; to jealousy of all things! He’d attacked Alia for Force-sake, and had felt even worse at her forgiveness...her understanding.

She’d acted as if it had been his right to attack her, to say the things he had said to her, about her mother. What kind of life had she lived that led her to believe such behavior was to be expected? Waiting for his Master now, Obi-wan looked out at the gleaming metropolis that was Coruscant, and wished with all his heart that he hadn’t hurt her.

“The Queen has asked for a Jedi representative to attend her gathering,” said Qui-Gon behind him, walking out of the Council chamber. On their return, he’d been summoned for yet another Council session, and Obi-wan had decided to wait outside for him. There was no way short of a declaration from the Chancellor himself, and an order from Qui-Gon, that Obi-wan would face the Council, not after what he’d done.

Surprised, Obi-wan couldn’t help asking, “Why?”

“She doesn’t trust the Federation delegate, which is hardly a surprise, and has asked for someone to be present at her gathering, in order to protect her companions.”

“And you volunteered,” Obi-wan said flatly. / How can he ask me to protect them after what I did to Alia? /

Qui-Gon looked at him then, and suddenly the indifference his Master had been projecting disappeared. His lips quirked upward into an amused smile.

“You should be looking forward to exercising your diplomacy skills, my young Padawan,” he rebuked gently as he turned to go.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, before following his Master down the hall.

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“Alia!” Anakin called for the third time, pounding on the refresher door.

Inside, Alia was brushing out her still damp hair, and threw an annoyed look over her shoulder to where the boy’s head would be.

“I’m not ready yet, Anakin. Don’t you know it takes forever for women to get ready for anything? Go ahead with Jar Jar, I’ll follow in a bit.”

Anakin blew out a breath, and shook his blond hair out of his eyes. He summed up his frustration with a single word. Girls. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the Gungan in question snoring on the couch again. Anakin rolled his eyes, before walking over to him and giving him a push.

“Ah ah, wotta happen?” exclaimed Jar Jar, his eyes snapping open to see Anakin’s grinning face.

“You were snoring,” the boy said in explanation, “Come on, Alia’s taking forever, she said we could go down early.”

Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, Jar Jar allowed himself to be dragged off the couch and out the door, mumbling under his breath about ‘huuuge-o tings.’

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As she walked down the corridor, Alia could hear the faint strains of music, but supposed the idea of dancing wouldn’t be encouraged by the glares she imagined radiating from the Naboo. She could feel the Queen’s seething anger the moment she entered the room, and while its potency was apparent in Amidala’s brown eyes, Alia felt it coming off her in waves. For a moment, she felt a sense of sadness for the young Queen, and anger at the Federation. What a bizarre way for the Neimoidian to delay her return to Naboo.

Glancing around the room at the various party-goers, Alia was surprised to see the Trade Federation representative talking to Senator Palpatine. / Sucha Kiljoi, / she thought, smirking. / What an appropriate name. / On closer inspection, she could see the Senator’s patience slowly begin to dwindle, and had a sudden urge to see the aristocratic man lose his control.

Shrugging away her odd interest in the senator, Alia looked around the room again, ignoring the stares sent her way, both admiring and scandalized. She’d chosen to wear a Dysean-styled outfit that had been buried at the bottom of her pack. It was beautifully made, striking in its simplicity; the white linen of her top stopped just below her breasts, the creamy color of her skin enhanced by its scooped neckline. The sleeves were longing and flowing, moving fluidly down her arms until reaching her elbows, where they fell wide from a slit on each arm.

Alia had always liked the band of gold fabric cinching the waist of her white linen skirt, the slit up its side not apparent until she moved, allowing slight glimpses of her slim, toned legs. Deciding to skip the traditional bare feet, she’d chosen to wear a pair of light-colored sandals she hadn’t known she’d had, let alone had packed.

There were other delegates here, she realized as she moved toward the Queen, catching sight of the colors of some political leaders. Some of them were plainly from the upper echelons of Coruscant, although some were just as plainly from offworld. Alia was given cursory glances as she passed them, and a few second, longer looks, but one man in particular, dressed in blue and gray, looked hard at her when she passed.

/ I wonder if they’ll be here. / The thought niggled in the back of her mind, but Alia mentally thrust it away. Reaching the Queen, she performed a credible curtsy before continuing to her friends.

“Well, what do you think?” Alia asked, her smile slightly forced as she noted their anxiety from the corner of her eye.

“My no like-en dis, Al-ya,” replied Jar Jar, his eyes darting nervously to and from the various Senate representatives.

“It feels weird,” Anakin added, his voice soft as he looked around the room again, slightly comforted by Alia’s presence. He hadn’t seen Padmé yet, and he wished she’d hurry up with whatever it was the Queen had her doing. Glancing quickly back to Alia, his eyes widened, Padmé momentarily forgotten.

“You look really nice, Alia,” Anakin said, blushing slightly.

She laughed slightly, before hunkering down to his level. Tweaking a lock of his hair, she flashed him a teasing smile.

“Why thank you, oh handsome one. You look very nice as well,” she replied.

His blue shirt and pants really did look nice on him, Alia thought. Someone must have found them for him; he’d said earlier he only had another change of clothes, nearly identical to his other ones. Alia smiled again as he blushed even deeper, before looking around.

“This isn’t much of a party,” she sighed, “More like a funeral wake. Makes sense, I guess.”

Her tone belied her words, though: Anakin could clearly hear the wistfulness in her voice. He shared a glance with Jar Jar, who smiled encouragingly and gestured with his scaly hands. The boy looked back at the woman he’d met the day before and liked so much already.

“Alia,” he began, “You said that parties were supposed to have dancing and singing, right?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, wondering where Anakin was going with this.

“At home,” Anakin continued, toying with a loose thread from his shirt, “Sometimes I’d have to prep it before it’d run.”

Jar Jar looked at Anakin as if he’d lost his mind. Ani was supposed to ask Alia for a song, not talk about engines! The Gungan decided to try his own way of suggestion.

“Wesa want-en yousa ta be sing-i for us-en, Al-ya,” he said helpfully.

Anakin shot him an exasperated look, but Alia, surprised, look from the boy to her friend, and back again. Cocking her head to one side, she mulled it over.

“And you think if I were to ‘prep’ the party, things might loosen up?” she said shrewdly, arching a disbelieving eyebrow at Anakin.

“You can sing really nice, Alia,” Anakin persisted, shooting a glance at the dais off to their right, “And it might make some people feel better.”

Alia followed his look with a discreet one of her own, and then glanced at her friends.

“What would I have to sing, handsome one?” she asked.

Though she’d said it with a sigh, the twinkle in her eyes made Anakin’s nervousness disappear.

He blushed again, though, before replying, “I don’t know…but I don’t think the one you sang earlier would work. Do you know any songs from your homeworld?”

Alia straightened, thinking hard on what might be appropriate. He was right; Little Rabbit was just a smidge out of place here. And there weren’t songs from her real homeworld, at least not ones these people would be able to understand. Alia smiled a small, painful half-smile as she remembered a few songs from her time on Dysis. A slight tug on her hand brought her back to the present, and she looked down into Anakin’s blue eyes.

“I know a few, but who knows if the musicians do?”

Giving him a small wink, Alia straightened, shooting Jar Jar a scowling glance.

“I swore you’d never trick me into singing in public again. There will be consequences, Gungan,” she threatened, before another smile broke out across her face. Jar Jar simply gave her his usual wide grin, the picture of perfect innocence. That face alone should have been enough to warn her, she thought as she turned slightly on her heel.

Walking in the direction of the music platform, she waded her way through the crowd, again drawing stares from the party-goers. The musicians were all human, she noticed absently as she pushed aside a portly Rodian - / How is it even possible for them to get so big? / - except for one very green Twi’lek female, who looked like she was about to cry. Alia wondered how many credits they’d been offered to keep the mood hospitable, if not favorable, to dancing.

She waited for a moment in front of the Twi’lek, until the green singer noticed her.

“I don’t think there’s much of a party mood right now,” she said, speaking quietly in Basic to the Twi’lek.

The female’s expressive black eyes held Alia’s gaze, nodding in understanding. The tips of her tentacles twitched nervously: if her band wasn’t paid, they wouldn’t be able to afford their agent’s salary for the next month, and they’d never get a show like this again. She watched as the human continued speaking in a low voice.

“My friends over there want to change that,” Alia said, gesturing; the female’s breath caught slightly as she saw the human’s hand point toward the Queen and her entourage, “They thought things might loosen up if I sang. I don’t mean to interfere with whatever contract you’ve been given. Just one song to convince them it’s a lost cause.”

The Twi’lek thought for a moment, and then glanced at the other musicians.

“Shh’nga ata’ata?” she said finally, looking back at the human female. What did you have in mind?

“Do you happen to know any thing from the Beroe Sector?”

“Giga hagaensu; chigati shobara?” A few things; something in particular?

“There’s this one song, from Dysis, called Inama Nushif. Do you know it?”

The Twi’lek’s eyes lit up and she nodded her head vigorously.

“Yeye, si bonuti hep walera! Si’beth tikno cali. Carrebu sal jhan?” Yes, we know the Lady’s Lament! But there is dancing as well. Do you wish for me to dance?

“No,” Alia replied, shaking her head, “I was taught the dance as well as the words. It has to be performed to the music of the song, you see. The singer has to dance with the music.”

The singer was pleased that the human understood one of the properties of a successful performance. Giving her a smile, she bowed her head gratefully.

“Ja phe tani’i, sluh gri banno si. Sher sher shingra, jathi.” Give us a minute, and we’ll be ready for you. I wish you well, human.

Alia returned the smile, then turned to walk to the center of the room, apologizing when she accidentally brushed against a body. Unnoticed, two figures wearing cloaks entered through a side entrance, making their way unobtrusively to the Queen.

Striking a pose in the middle of the floor, Alia called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, honorable delegates; I have a request to make of the Queen!”

The polite chatter around the room fell silent as the partygoers looked at the seemingly brash young woman. All eyes became locked on her or the Queen, as Amidala looked at her strange companion in surprise.

“Do I have the Queen’s attention?” Alia asked in a slightly lowered voice, ending her pose and standing at ease.

Amidala granted her a nod of her headdress, and with such encouragement, Alia continued her exaggerated behavior, her heart thudding in her chest. She swept a grand bow to the Queen, before plastering a mournful expression on her face.

“It’s with a heavy heart that I must tell you that we haven’t managed to convey your goodwill and thanks to the city of Coruscant for your stay on such a glittering metropolis.”

Alia threw a careless hand around the room, keeping her eyes fixed on Amidala. Barely, just barely, was she able to discern the Queen’s baffled but growing interest.

“It has been requested of me to sing for your pleasure, Highness. Will you allow me to attempt to get this party started?”

Affecting a disinterested pose, she watched as Amidala glanced in Anakin and Jar Jar’s direction, then back to her.

Nodding her head slightly, the Queen spoke in her expressionless voice, “We will hear you, Alia.”

The man in blue and gray caught his breath. Alia smiled at the Queen, bowing her head, sinking to a knee in respect, and remained there. The people around her backed away to give her space as the musicians began a haunting melody.

Inama nushif She is eternal
Al ­asir hiy ayish No malice can touch

Her clear voice suddenly cut through the air, smoothly piercing everything it touched. She moved slowly, in time with her words, every muscle tensed and relaxed.

Lia-anni Singular and ageless
Zaratha zarati Perpetually bound

Raising a hand in an ancient salute to the sky, she let it trail to the floor, her eyes rising to the ceiling as her hips moved in beat with the drums. Slowly, her arms rose above her head, twisting and twirling, as her voice lowered.

Hatt al-hudad Through the tempest
Al-maahn al-baiid Be it deluge or sand
Ay-yah idare A singular voice
Adamm malum Speaks through the torrent

The echoes of the words dancing across the walls of the hall, her graceful movements held the crowd spellbound as suddenly a new voice entered the song; the Twi’lek had begun to sing with her, their voices mixing in a beautiful duet. Alia looked over at her counterpart in mid-breath and smiled.

Hatt al-hudad Through the tempest
Al-maahn al-baiid Be it deluge or sand
Ay-yah idare A singular voice
Adamm malum Speaks through the torrent

She spun around, then, moving around the floor in a graceful circle, whirling her body in and out of spins that increased in intensity as the Twi’lek took over the singing and Alia began to dance in earnest.

Inama nishuf a al sadarr Forever her voice sings
Eann zaratha zarati Through the ages eternally bound

The men in cloaks halted their passage through the crowd and stared fixedly at Alia’s dancing form. A lump of emotion rose in one of their throats as he watched her pass by them, oblivious to their presence. She was free, at peace with the world. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt Sacrifice is her gift
Al hudad alman dali [b[One that cannot be equaled[/b]

A jump and a spin, a wide arc with her leg and she was spinning again, her movements flawless.

Inama nishuf a al sadarr Forever her voice sings
Eann zaratha zarati Through the ages eternally bound

Her voice could be heard again, and some of the listeners were struck speechless, instrument and voice melding as dancer and singer became one.

Kali bakka a tishuf ahatt Sacrifice is her gift
Al hudad alman dali alia One that my people will equal

The music reached its peak, and she danced in the heart of the song, every drop of her head, every lifting of an eyebrow holding meaning and telling the story of the Warrior Queen Laria’s prophecy. At last, Alia's movements slowed as she spun in a wide, lazy circle, until reaching her starting point. The Twi’lek had let go of the song, and allowed Alia to finish it through. She raised her arm once more in the ancient salute.

Inama nushif She is eternal
Al ­asir hiy ayish No malice can touch

Her voice was beautiful, striking chords unheard of in a Human. Alia lowered her arms until they danced in front of her, turning herself in a slow circle as her hips moved in time with the hidden drums.

Lia-anni Singular and ageless
Zaratha zarati Perpetually bound

Executing a final, arcing spin, Alia seemed to melt perfectly into her previous posture of respect, her head bowed. The Twi’lek finished the last haunting vocals of the Lady’s Lament, and when she finished, all were silent.

“Thank you, Alia,” said the Queen at last, moved by the woman’s profound performance.

Alia looked up, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“We’ll see, Your Highness; I don’t see anyone dancing yet.”

Immediately, the Twi’lek started another song, this one in a language Alia didn’t recognize, and a mixed group of senators and nobility surged toward the dance floor. Grinning, Alia turned to head back toward her friends.

“Cadis!”

Shock cemented her foot to the floor, and habit not wholly ground out of her helped her turn around. Tears filled her eyes as she saw a man in blue and grey coming toward her, his black hair streaked with silver and his brown eyes growing large as he drew near. He stopped a few inches away from her, hardly daring to breath. Alia was able to move first, her mouth moving to say a single word.

“Jaris.”

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From the Author - -

"So...what'd you think? Believable?"

Author's Notes

Twi’lek language Just made-up words, no real basis to them.

Inama Nushif Not mine, written by Brian Tyler for the Children of Dune soundtrack, and the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. I’ve changed one line to fit this story, and so as not to make it too Mary Sue-ish. This song will be come very important later on, if not in this story, than in its sequel.

Little Rabbit Once again, this song is not mine. It’s a children’s song from Greece.


Chapter 20 - The Dance, Part II

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

/ Text / denotes mental thought.
{ Text. } denotes Mindspeech.

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Chapter 20 - The Dance, Part II
"Jaris."

It was said reverently, lovingly, and the sound of her voice around his name brought memories flooding back. He made a hoarse noise in the back of his throat as he suddenly reached out and pulled her to him, crushing her body in his arms.

“Little sister,” Jaris cried into her hair, holding her tight, “Oh, Goddess, I never thought I’d see you again.”

Alia hugged him tightly, close to crying herself. Jaris had been the one person in her life who had never gone away, the one person who had come close to making her change her mind about leaving Dysis. She clutched him close for a few more minutes, before pulling away.

Blinking away tears, she shook her head at him, saying wisely, “Believing in the impossible is the only way to make it possible, Jaris.”

He looked at her, uncomprehending for a moment, then spotted the glint in her blue eyes. She was teasing him. Eight years of hardly any word, and even then it was something scribbled on a telescript without a return address…and she was teasing him. He threw his head back, laughing that Alia had not changed one bit. Placing one hand on his stomach to keep his insides from spilling out and the other on Alia’s shoulder, tears again formed at the corners of his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, Alia.”

“And I’ve missed you, Jaris; more than you'll ever know.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Alia schooled her face into a scowl, saying, “Every time I hold those damn sticks I’m reminded of you and your damned sadistic teaching.”

He chuckled, and replied, “Sadistic but necessary.”

“Ha!” she crowed, spinning around and nearly hitting a pair of dancers, “So you admit to being a depraved brute when it comes to climbing trees and innocent little sisters.”

He snorted.

“When the innocent little sister in question,” he retorted, “Has managed to fall out of said tree three times, pretended to break her leg to get out of climbing practice, and then thrown all my clothes out the window onto passing strangers when it didn’t work, all in the same day, then yes, I enjoyed seeing you fall on your ass when you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Well,” Alia sniffed, jutting her nose into the air, “If that’s how you speak to your long-lost little sister, I’m going to where I know I’ll be appreciated.”

She turned abruptly, catching him off guard as she shook his hand from her shoulder, and stormed off in the direction of the Naboo. Alarmed, Jaris hurried to catch up with her, struggling to keep her in his sights as she wove in and out of dancing couples and triples; finally, he was able to catch her in an open space, and took hold of her hand.

He was worried at the mulish set of her jaw and the stubborn way she refused to look at him. Until he caught sight of that damned twinkle. Reluctant to drop her hand, he pulled her around forcefully, where he saw the frown melt into an irrepressible grin. Damnit, she was teasing him again. Laying an arm across her shoulders, he squeezed gently.

“Let’s not poke fun anymore,” he said quietly, glad to be with her again, “I’d like to meet your friends.”

Alia smiled, nodding her head, and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

“This way, my gullible escort,” she said teasingly, maneuvering them around the dancers.

“Lead on, insufferable brat,” Jaris replied, happy to once more fall into their youthful bantering.

He grew apprehensive, however, as they drew closer to the group of Naboo surrounding Amidala. To his relief, Alia merely bowed her head in respect as they passed the Queen, and led to him to the far side of the dais, where a boy and his companion were standing, looking woefully out of place. The alien wasn’t the strangest creature he’d ever seen, but it came close. Startled from his thoughts, he realized that Alia was speaking.

“…dances back on Dysis. Jaris, I’d like you to meet my friends, Jar Jar Binks and Anakin Skywalker,” she said, gesturing first to the alien then the boy, “Anakin, Jar Jar, this is my brother, Jaris.”

He saw the boy’s eyes widen.

“You mean you’re Qui-Gon’s s-” he began before Alia quickly bent down to put a hand over his mouth.

“My foster-brother, Anakin,” she said, staring into his eyes for a moment before pulling her hand away.

Jaris, however, was intrigued, his interest sharpening at his sister’s action, and wondered who or what a Qui-Gon was.

“It is an honor,” he said, bowing his head to them, “To meet you both.”

The boy stared at him, and Jaris noticed that his blue eyes were measuring him, weighing what they saw, and felt a moment’s uneasiness at their intensity.

“You don’t look like Matis.”

Surprised, Jaris looked at the boy again.

“And how do you know my aunt?”

“The mirrorpool, Jaris.”

Alia had grown quiet, and as he looked at her, he wondered what had happened to make her become so serious. The Alia-child he had known as a youngling was grown, no longer tortured by her visions and the echoes of her birth mother. Or at least, the scars were no longer visible. He was surprised that she had consented to create a projection: as a child once her gift had been discovered, she had always been in demand to tell a story, but always claimed that it hurt too much. He wondered how long she had known these friends of hers. Jaris watched as his foster sister shook off her melancholy, and bent down to the boy.

“Care to dance?” she asked, offering a hand.

The boy’s blue eyes looked downward, suddenly shy.

“I don’t know how,” he said softly.

“I’ll teach you.”

Anakin looked up and smiled at her, taking her hand. Alia looked up over his head at Jaris, her gaze pleading. She had just been reunited with him, so of course she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him, but Anakin needed help. Jaris simply nodded his head, smiling genially down at her. He'd found his sister...there would be plenty of time for questions later.

Jaris stood beside the tall, amphibious alien, watching his sister lead the boy, Anakin was his name, to the center of the dance floor. Looking over to comment to the creature, he was surprised to find that it had somehow been replaced by a man, not as tall as…Jar Jar, he had to remember that…but still towering over his own average frame. The man was older-looking, his brown hair worn long but tied back with a sensible thong.

His profile fascinated Jaris, its features seeming to convey a sense of strength, and despite the broken nose that spoke of battle, there was a dignity about this man, a sense of nobility that teased Jaris with its familiarity. He knew this man, somehow, though he had never seen him before. Without saying a word, without lifting a finger, he had won the usually taciturn Dysean’s respect.

“Alia is a surprising young woman,” the man said, turning his head slightly toward Jaris, “With many secrets.”

“More, I think, than even she knows,” Jaris replied, watching as his sister threw her head back in laughter at something the boy said.

The man inclined his head in acknowledgement when Jaris turned his eyes to him completely, and the Dysean thought he could see the barest hint of a smile on the older man’s lips.

“How do you know my sister?”

The man seemed to think a moment, then turned his head back to Alia.

“I met her when I was on Naboo; she traveled with my companions and aided in the Queen’s escape.”

“What was she doing on Naboo?”

The question was out before Jaris could stop it, and he nearly bit his tongue in frustration. Now the man would wonder why he hadn’t known where his own sister was when she apparently helped save a Queen. A chuckle sounded next to him, and he looked up incredulous at the man beside him.

“You needn’t worry,” the man said, giving him that small smile that seemed so familiar to him, “I know your sister’s history.”

/ I’ll bet. There were some things Alia would never tell me, let alone a stranger. And how did he know I was thinking that? /

“As you will, sir,” Jaris replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. On Dysis, even those who were mistaken were given credit to their honor. It was highly valued on his world, and ingrained into their children from birth.

The man sent a glance his way, apparently seeing through the courtesy response and amused by his gesture.

“You may believe me, young man. Alia’s abilities have made her far different from other beings, enough so that I brought her before the Council.”

With sudden insight, Jaris looked more openly at the man beside him, taking into account the man’s long cloak, his clean and pressed tunics and pants, and catching sight at last of the lightsaber that hung from his belt within easy reach.

“You’re a Jedi,” Jaris said, shocked that he had not seen it before.

The man bowed his head.

“I am called Qui-Gon Jinn.”

/ So, this is Qui-Gon. Rather makes the ‘what’ question a moot point. I wonder how Alia knows him. /

“Jaris endon Despin, Master Jinn, of the Beroe Sector. Forgive me, but have you ever been to the Dysis system before?”

“Once, a long time ago.”

“That’s it, then.”

The Jedi looked blankly at him as the music around them changed, becoming a softer, more romantic tune.

“Where I must’ve seen you; forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but I feel as if I’ve met you before.”

Instead of shrugging away his apology, the Jedi appeared thoughtful.

“Perhaps you have, when you were younger.”

Suddenly, Jaris was pierced with the Jedi Master’s grey-blue eyes, their depths penetrating his unprepared mind.

“You are of the Despin Clan on Dysis, then?”

Jaris nodded dumbly, surprised that a stranger would know of Dysean kin lines.

“And would you be familiar, then, with the Despin Trade Corporation?”

At that, Jaris had to smile, albeit bittersweet.

“Too familiar, some might say. If you know anything about how things are done on Dysis, you’ll know that Destra is a blood-run company. Trade is the family business, though what with the growing Trade Federation monopoly, our profits aren’t as high as they used to be. But that’s probably for the best.”

Qui-Gon found himself raising an eyebrow in interest at the young man’s comment. This Jaris was no fool; his mind was sharp and his insight served him well. He had seen Qui-Gon before: Alia carried his features, though they were softened and more delicate in his daughter’s face. The Jedi Master only hoped that despite the young man’s intelligence, for Alia's sake, Jaris would remain blind to just where he remembered the Jedi’s face.

“How so?” asked Qui-Gon, beginning to enjoy himself. He hoped Obi-wan found someone to talk to as well, though Force help him if it turned out to be one of the nobility, or worse yet, a politician. Qui-Gon nearly chuckled aloud at his Padawan’s distaste of politicians, and the look on his face if he had to converse politely with what he considered the greatest of evils. The young man at his side merely shrugged.

“With great power comes great responsibility, a philosopher once said. Less power means less of a chance to become corrupted by it,” replied Jaris, “For the people working for you to become nameless faces. That’s why Destra is a family-only business; it’s harder to turn your back on family wherever you go, but on Dysis, family is what makes you who you are. You are never allowed to forget who is blood and who is not.”

Qui-Gon noted that Jaris lowered his voice at that last part, resentment long buried resurfacing through his words. Probing the man’s mind slightly, he found that Jaris was remembering old taunts and insults, not directed at him, but at Alia. / So even when she was loved, she has been the outsider. / At that moment, while retreating from the Dysean’s mind, Qui-Gon felt a moment of compassion for the child he had never known, and suddenly felt the urge to look for her.

His eyes cast around the dance floor, looking for her tall form with Anakin, and failed to find them. A slight tug at his hand brought his gaze downward, where he was surprised to meet Anakin’s gaze.

“Master Qui-Gon, sir,” the boy began, his eyes trusting and open, “Do you know when the party’s gonna end? My feet hurt.”

Qui-Gon smiled both at the boy’s honesty and his blatant attempt to disguise his weariness.

“I don’t know, Anakin; from my experience, these things take time, sometimes lasting long after sunrise.”

Anakin groaned, and both Qui-Gon and Jaris laughed.

“Perhaps you might ask the Queen to excuse you early, Ani.”

But the boy shook his head, stubbornly refusing to give in to his weariness. Suddenly, a laugh carried across the room to where they stood, and Qui-Gon quickly turned his head. Alia was dancing now with Senator Palpatine, the politician whirling her around the floor to the apparent disappointment of a group of young men on the far side of the room. Jaris shook his head.

“Some things never change. A war could break out, the Republic might crumble, and Alia would still turn every head.”

Qui-Gon said nothing, thinking instead that she had many qualities that would turn someone’s head: her loyalty, her beauty, her strength, and her courage.

X X X X \r\n\r\n

She hadn’t felt so free since the last time she’d been on Naboo, and Jar Jar was teaching her the ways of the swamp. In return, she had tried to teach him how to walk in the trees, until finally, while doubled up with laughter, they both had to admit that Gungans were better suited to the marshy terrain than the leafy trees for a reason. Alia smiled fondly in remembrance, and her partner mistook her meaning.

He tightened his hand around her waist, saying in a low voice, “I am coming to find that the Queen’s taste in friends quite outdoes her taste in music.”

Startled, Alia quickly brought her mind from her memories, chastising herself silently for losing track of the conversation.

“Forgive me, Lavik,” she said, her smile apologetic, “My mind must’ve wandered. What did you say?”

Slightly put out, her partner nevertheless persevered, smiling wide to show off his perfect teeth.

“I was just admiring your dancing; do you know many dances, little songbird?”

She laughed loudly, her smile contagious and bright.

“Yes, but at least half of them wouldn’t be appropriate for this kind of party.”

He was entranced at the slight giggle she gave as he twirled her around the floor, adding flamboyance to their turns, exaggerating the dips and spins. Pulling her close suddenly, he made her aware of their intimate positions by making a slight grinding motion with his hips.

“I know an inappropriate dance I’d like to practice with you, songbird.”

His smooth voice deepened as they whirled once more around the floor, the hand on her waist sliding to just beneath the small of her back. Her body stiffened and relaxed all at once, and he was satisfied that he’d made his point. Suddenly her eyes narrowed, and his mind was surrounded by a fog smelling faintly of leia flowers.

You are an arrogant pig.

“An arrogant pig,” he agreed, his mind going strangely numb as he led them into another turn.

You will remove your hand from my backside.

His wandering fingers slid back up to her hip.

When the dance is finished, you will find another partner and won’t think of me again.

Her blue eyes burned into his own, and he felt an itching begin behind them, tears forming at their lids. The leia-smelling fog was suffocating him, smothering him with its subtle sweetness. Executing a spin, Alia could feel her control slipping, and hurriedly broke their connection.

“You were saying, Lavik?” she asked quietly, noting his clammy hands and dilated eyes.

“What?”

He felt strange, confused: something was dancing at the edge of his mind, a word, a smell, something he couldn’t for the life of him remember. His partner’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, and as he looked into her concerned eyes, he thought he heard a slight sound in his head, something important that he couldn’t grasp. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, his usual arrogance returned, and he gave her another glimpse of his white teeth.

“Beg pardon?” he rephrased the question, this time sounding more composed. But his partner merely shook her head, the sparkle returning to her blue eyes.

“I guess both our minds wandered, then.”

His attraction for her had returned along with his arrogance, but this time it was accompanied by something darker, a taste that felt sweeter and more dangerous. A sound teased his mind, and it was laced with the same dark sweetness. He was about to speak when he heard a throat clear loudly behind them.

“Forgive me, young Taraal, but may I cut in?”

Unseen by Lavik, Alia threw a grateful look at the very welcome politician.

“Senator Palpatine! How are you?” she asked brightly, quickly letting go of Lavik’s hand to curtsy.

The politician smiled knowingly at her.

“Very well, Lady Alia. Pardon my intrusion, but I feared that if I did not take this opportunity, you would be taken for every dance.”

“I am flattered, Senator. Thank you for your company, Lavik; it was most enjoyable.”

Outraged, her jilted would-be suitor watched her twirl away in the Senator’s arms, leaving him alone in the middle of the dance floor. Alia could feel his eyes burning into her back as she danced with the senator from Naboo, before their intensity faded as her mental suggestions took hold.

“I don’t think he appreciated how eager I was to abandon him,” she sighed, refusing to meet Palpatine’s gaze. A slight uneasiness wormed its way into her mind, casting a shade upon her relief at escape.

“I doubt that Lavik Taraal appreciates eagerness in anything but himself.”

Alia looked up at her partner’s dry response, and stared at him in surprise. Once his meaning sank in, however, she threw her head back in laughter. Heads turned in their direction, but Alia didn’t care. The senator had begun asking questions about Dysis, which she answered happily. No one except the Jedi, Jaris, and Anakin knew of her true homeworld.

He appeared interested in her stories, and seemed genuinely curious about Dysis, asking questions about the land, the people, and the religion. They spun and whirled around the floor, Palpatine being the perfect partner, never stepping on her toes or making uncomfortable remarks. Not once did he pull a Lavik and try something below the waist. As the song ended, Alia looked into his eyes, her skin flushed with exertion and a playful smile on her lips.

“I've discovered your greatest secret, Senator.”

Palpatine smiled at her, his grey eyes indulgently amused.

"And what would that be, my lady?"

Looking around furtively, Alia spoke in a dramatic whisper:, “Beneath the politics, you’re really a Dance Master in disguise.”

He gave a small chuckle, and brought her hand to his lips. She felt him press a light kiss to her knuckles, and giggled slightly. Instantly a swarm of young nobles, minus her previous partner, gathered around them.

“You see, Lady Alia,” Palpatine said to her, “I was right to catch you when I did.”

She laughed with him, and smiled brightly at the requests for her to dance.

“I’m sorry,” Alia said apologetically, fanning herself, “But I’m a little tired. I think I need some air.”

She was immediately offered a dozen invitations to take a walk in the garden, to which she internally sighed. Alia had always hated the public dances on Dysis; there was never any time for her to be alone. Forcing a smile, she laughed cheerfully, waving away the many requests as one would an irritating insect.

“No, no, you stay and dance; if you all come with me, there’ll be no one left to keep this party going.”

With a wave of her hand, she sent them back to the floor, propelling them forward with a slight Suggestion. Turning away from the glittering room, Alia fled through a side door to avoid the sudden rush to the popular garden spots, escaping to the less popular terrace. Once outside, she sighed as she felt a cool breeze kiss her brow, and she turned her head instinctively toward the stars, sagging in relief against the balustrade.

Looking down, the blue-eyed brunette watched as couples began to make their way through the garden maze, the paths lit softly by tree-lights. Alia suddenly felt a strong, familiar presence make itself known, and she welcomed its unseen yet unmistakable warmth.

“Are my eyes deceived or is the great Qui-Gon Jinn running away from a little political get-together?” Alia said without turning around. There was no need for preamble. She had felt his presence inside her all her life.

The Jedi acknowledged her teasing with a nod of his head. Even though she stood facing away from him, he knew she would somehow understand it.

“Your eyes may deceive you, Alia; don’t trust them.”

“And how about what I feel?” Alia replied, her voice so soft that he needed to strain to make out her words.

Taking leave of the shadows, Qui-Gon stood beside her, mimicking her pose by placing his elbows on the concrete barrier. It was one of his favorites when he had things to think about and meditate.

“What do you feel?”

Alia had never heard his voice when she was a child, had never been able to feel the comfort of his arms when she was hurt or angry or afraid. At that moment, Alia hated her mother and what she’d done, what she’d condemned her daughter to: craving what she could never have, the slightest taste of it enough to drive her mad with want.

Struggling to regain her control, Alia viciously cut off her ties to her anger; she’d pay for it later, but Alia refused to allow Qui-Gon see her weak. Breathing softly, she thought of how to answer his question.

“That after this, I’ll never see you again,” she said at last, allowing herself to speak part of the truth.

Qui-Gon sensed her hesitation, and decided to push her.

“Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alia still refused to look at him as she struggled to control her flaring temper. “When this is over, I’ll go my way, and you’ll go yours. A Jedi can’t love. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make you leave the Order. It’s what you are, what you’ve always been.”

“And you?”

“Me?” she said in a slightly-shrill voice, her eyes staring at the sky and her hands clenching and unclenching themselves on the garden wall, “I’ll manage somehow, travel like I always have, make new friends, have adventures. Who wouldn’t want a life like that?”

“Would you not return to Dysis?”

She gave a bitter laugh at his question, for a moment her eyes growing hard at her memories.

“I left for a reason, Qui-Gon,” Alia said in a harsh voice, “No matter how hard I tried, I was never one of them. No matter how many loved me, I was always the outsider. They even tried to give me a Clan name, to prove I was born one of them, I guess. But it didn’t matter. I was never Cadis, and could never be Cadis.

“My name was the one word my mother ever spoke,” Alia said, her breath sticking for a moment in her throat, “And it’s all I am. I can’t escape it...I can't escape her...no matter where I go or how far I run."

Ducking her head, Alia continued on, whispering as she stared intently at the stars above them, her brilliant gaze frightening in its intensity.

"She's inside me...in my blood...inside my head...she's always whispering, always singing...."

He was silent during her tirade, following the tenuous psychic thread he had discovered in her rooms, until he came upon one of her barriers. She stopped suddenly, looking sharply in his direction. Qui-Gon was surprised to find fear in her eyes. As well as outrage.

“Do Jedi make it a habit to invade a person’s privacy behind their back?”

“When that person gives answers that only produce more questions, then yes. I have felt this before,” he said, switching the topic, “This thread between us. What does it mean?”

Alia felt her breath catch, and swallowed hard.

“It’s what ties us together,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes, her heart aching, “The bond my mother left behind so that we’d know each other, if we ever met.”

Alia's emotions were difficult for even Qui-Gon to read. She was elated and despairing all at once, her spirit seemingly whole yet lying broken at his feet. He brought a hand to her face, turning her eyes to meet his own. They were a desolate, roiling blue like the storm-tossed waters of Manaan, yet they sparkled brightly in the soft lantern light.

“Tell me, Alia,” he whispered gently, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and shelter her, “Let it go.”

Alia let out a strangled cry, unable to stop herself from wrapping her arms around his waist. Qui-Gon held her as she wept, rubbing small circles across her shoulders as her sobs were muffled by the thickness of his tunics. At last, Alia rested her head gently against his broad chest, her red-rimmed eyes looking out at the glittering city of Coruscant. They stood together for a few moments, listening to the soft strains of music coming from the ballroom.

“I Feel you, Alia," Qui-Gon said quietly, his chest rumbling as he spoke, "I can Feel your presence within my mind. Only, it's as if you have always been with me, and I'm only seeing it now.”

He felt her nod into his chest.

“I’ve always Felt you,” Alia said quietly, breathing in his scent, trying to memorize everything about this moment, “Your grief, your anger, your love, because I’ve always known you to be my father. Mother could feel both of us because…because…I don’t know why, not for sure; maybe because she was tied to both of us. But you…you never felt me because you didn’t remember me...you didn’t believe you had a daughter.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now you See the colors, don’t you? You See them on things I've touched, places I've been?”

“Yes.”

At the sound of his voice, Alia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“You believe me,” she whispered, relief overwhelming her to the point where she had to struggle to breathe, “You could only See them if you believed, if you acknowledged that I was your daughter, that Mother exchanged your spirits, everything.”

Sighing, Alia lifted her head from its resting place, reluctantly leaving her father’s warm embrace to once again lean her elbows atop the balustrade. There was something, however, that Qui-Gon needed answered.

“What do you remember of your mother, Alia?”

Alia closed her eyes at his question, thinking hard, casting her mind back in memory.

“She was beautiful…kind, but…sad. Her presence was so bright, so bright that at times even my eyes hurt from looking too long. She was warm, peaceful, and gentle as a spring rain or summer breeze. I remember her laughter; it was so pure, like virgin sunlight, and it always made me feel loved.

"But there were times when she would grow angry or sad, and it would baffle the others. They couldn’t understand that she was feeling you...that she was feeling your emotions. Not even when they were dying did they understand.”

“Understand what?”

Alia was silent. She sensed his need to know more, to know what had happened to Mala, but it was killing her to tell him. The pain of her mother's death was still as raw as it had been fifteen years before.

“They died because of your link with them," Alia said finally, "The betrayal of your Padawan was too much for them, too powerful for my mother to soothe. But she knew; she’d always known, I think, that it would be your grief that killed her.”

Qui-Gon watched his daughter lift her head skyward, her Angel-blue eyes staring fixedly at a point in space, though whether she was looking at the stars or the blackness in between them he couldn't say.

“What do you remember?” she asked suddenly.

She heard him sigh, and mimic her stance again, their heads now level as they stood together on the terrace.

“Before I met you,” he began, his voice quiet, “I would say that I hardly remember anything about her; we were on course to Jabiim when I met your mother. The Force brought us together, Alia, of that I am certain, now.”

“But at the time?”

“At the time I didn’t really give it much thought; I didn’t remember anything more than that I felt different, changed. Xanatos thought of it as just another adventure, something to amaze his year-mates. I chose to do the same, except for the last part.”

“Because of course, Jedi don’t brag.”

He smiled slightly at her sarcastic words.

“Because what skills I have were given to me by the Force and I am grateful for them; to use them wrongly would mean to lose them. I have no need to parade my talents when my faults are just as obvious.”

A curious thing was happening to her, she could feel it. Alia had always known her love for her father came from her mother, but now, just this once, she felt she was able to judge him for herself. This was why her mother had loved him, or at least part of it. He was humble and confident, respectful yet aware of his own worth; he was everything that a Jedi was supposed to be, and still human.

On her mother’s moon, on Dysis, on every planet or ship she had lived, Alia had felt his insecurity, his anger, the emotions he bottled inside to deal with at a later time. But being in his presence was like a new awakening for Alia; his life-force burned brilliantly, its bright warmth drawing her close. She loved this man, her father, now more than ever.

“I think I know now why my mother loved you; partially, anyway.”

Qui-Gon had felt her acceptance, had felt her drawing in within herself even as she turned and smiled ruefully at him.

“I don’t understand it, but I know it. I'll miss you, Father, when this is over.”

She took his hand and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to its roughened knuckles.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me,” she made a mock bow, causing a small smile to form at his lips, “I think I must return to the dance.”

As Alia turned to walk away, she thought she heard a whisper on the wind, a voice that made her heart ache in memory. Qui-Gon sensed her steel her heart against her pain, yet now that he was able to distinguish her emotions from his own, he somehow felt even more entangled. His body turned away from her retreating form, facing the garden spread beneath the terrace. He knew her pain, knew where it began, but they both knew that it could never be remedied.

Restraining himself from turning around and reaching out to her, he allowed himself to give her all that he could, damning the consequences.

“May the Force be with you, my daughter,” he said quietly, in a voice so soft that Alia could not hear his parting gift.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X \r\n\r\n

From the Author - -

"In case you haven't noticed, I absolutely adore Qui-Gon. So, for those who don't like him, don't read anymore of my story. I know, I know, a little late, but better late than never, right?"

Author's Notes

Telescript SW-equivalent of a letter.

Endon lit. translation "of the Clan."

Destra As I've mentioned before, Destra is the Despin Trading Corporation, a lesser competitor of the Trade Federation. Its base is on Dysis, and is controlled by the Despin Clan.
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Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 10:01 pm