Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Under the scorching rays of two suns, a lone man walked through the vastness of the Dune Sea. It was hot out, one of the hottest days of the cycle, if the farmers at Anchorhead were to be believed. And they should be, considering they’re crazy enough to live on one of the most desolate rocks in the Outer Rim. But the lone man didn’t care; he actually envied them. To live so far away from the noise of galactic politics, large-scale battles, and death. So much death. Out here, it’s dangerous, yes, but life is so much more simple. It’s you and your people, working to put food on the table and look out for threats that are visible and apparent.

And it’s quiet. So quiet. Just you, your people, and the Force.

Jacen Solo walked through the sands of Tatooine, seeking the Force.

Jacen could feel the Force more vividly than ever- each breath, each heartbeat a pulse of life. Ever since his journey to a living planet and his battle with Onimi, Jacen felt as if the entire universe pulsed through him. But despite that, Jacen felt disconnected from it all. It was like holding a datapad with millions of texts loaded into it, but it was in an archaic dialect that could barely be understood. The Force had been his ally in countless battles, yet now it felt like a shifting mirage, pulling away every time he reached for it. Just when he thought he grasped its truths, they slipped through his fingers like desert sands.

He was the heir to a legendary family. A hero. The one who had defeated the true Supreme Leader of the Yuuzhan Vong. A Jedi. But more than any of those things? Jacen Solo was as lost and as confused as ever.

He knew it drove his friends and family mad with his philosophizing and introspection. Anakin had scolded him for overthinking, Jaina butted heads with him constantly, and even Uncle Luke questioned his choices. Jacen felt most accepted when his lightsaber was drawn- but violence had never been the answer.

It wasn’t violence that won the war. Not really. Sure, Jacen and the other Jedi, alongside the Galactic Alliance and Imperial Remnant took back Coruscant and, with the help of Zonama Sekot, finally defeated the Yuuzhan Vong. He, Jaina, and Luke had confronted Shimrra and Onimi and Jacen had done…something…to defeat the Shamed One pulling the strings in the shadows. But the war could’ve been far worse if they had stuck to that battle plan, pressed the attack, and wiped the invading species off the galactic map forever. But that’s not what happened.

True victory had come from something else. Understanding. Change. A choice that allowed even the Yuuzhan Vong to survive. The Jedi had fought, but they had also learned to step beyond the role of warriors. That was what had truly ended the war. So why did Jacen feel like they were still missing something? The war was over, The Jedi were heroes again, but they were no longer bound to the Galactic Alliance. That had been Luke’s decision- they served the Force, not a government. But without war to define them, where did that leave them? What did it truly mean to be Jedi now? Jacen wasn't sure. He felt his calling was to go elsewhere, to seek answers alone and figure out what the Force wants him to do, not the Jedi as a whole.

So Jacen went. He had planned on doing so for a while, and he told Jaina just that right after the war ended. But, he stuck around for a while after, helping his family and friends and fellow Jedi rebuild and recover. He took time to finally relax and spend time with his loved ones, like he was a kid on Yavin 4 again. It was comforting and healing, but the biting feeling in the back of his mind finally won over, and Jacen once again turned his sights on his all too ambiguous destiny, and he set out to find it. His search had taken him to several different star systems so far, including the Great Jedi Library on Ossus, the partially rebuilt library on Obroa-Skai, the remains of the old Jedi temple on Coruscant, the caves of Dagobah, and the vast archives on Csilla. He had learned some about the history of the Jedi and the Old Republic, and had some very interesting meditations in the Force, but still Jacen was left with more questions than answers.

So he turned inward, and headed for Tatooine. To confront his own family’s legacy.

Jacen had only been to Tatooine twice- once as a child, and once during the war with his father. Even then, he felt a strong connection to the world. The Force drew to him here despite all the emptiness and desolation because of how important this planet is to his family. His uncle Luke had been raised here and had realized his destiny here, his father had been here many times and was even held prisoner by Jabba the Hutt here. But, most importantly, his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, was born and raised here before leaving to become a Jedi and, eventually, the Sith Lord Darth Vader. The Force was strong in his family, and it can trace its beginnings back to this isolated world.

Despite being constantly reminded of his heritage and his family, there’s still so much Jacen didn’t know about his grandfather. Anakin Skywalker was a distant figure, his legacy casting a long, dark shadow over Luke, Leia, and now Jacen himself. Anakin, his younger brother, had feared repeating his namesake’s mistakes. Jacen must admit he, too, had been awoken from nightmares of continuing that dark legacy. Walking the sands Anakin once tread, the question weighed on him: what if the Force had brought him here not for answers, but as a warning?
Anakin Skywalker’s story was vague, shrouded in history erased by the Empire. The Jedi archives on Coruscant had been destroyed, and even Luke had only fragments of knowledge. Jacen had tried to piece it together, but understanding his grandfather’s fall was like trying to grasp mist. What had truly driven him to darkness? Surely, he had thought he was doing what was right. He was a hero of the Clone Wars, a model Jedi.

Jacen had seen some of the most powerful Jedi in his life struggle with their own darkness, so he knew it wasn’t as simple as avoiding it. He himself had felt the weight of his own choices, his own anger, his own fear. The Force was vast, powerful, and passionate, capable of both creation and destruction. That much was certain. But was it something to fear? That’s what he had always been taught, what he had seen firsthand. Yet if Vergere had been right about anything, and in the end she had been right about a lot, then maybe the Force wasn’t about light and dark at all. Maybe it was something broader, something deeper. Not two opposing sides, but one great current, vast and unifying.

Jacen was determined to find out, and he was out here looking to see if there were answers among the past. He had tried in vain to find any records of Anakin’s childhood. Being a slave on Tatooine, he was more likely to be found in a business ledger than a census. Even then, with how loosely governed and organized the settlements were, it was no wonder there was no record to be found. Jacen then tracked down Luke’s old homestead, owned by his late uncle and aunt. It had been burned to the ground by the Empire on the fateful day Luke had left to rescue Leia, Jacen’s mother. Now, a traveling market stall had set up shop on top of it. No luck there. But, all the while, as Jacen traveled the planet, he’d find himself drawn by the Force, tugged on by an unseen entity willing him forward. It was very strong at the site of the old moisture farm. To Jacen, it was a sign that the Force still lingered here, tied to the memories of the Skywalker family.

As far as tangible places to find and investigate, though, Jacen only had one option left- Obi-Wan Kenobi’s old hut. His uncle Luke had been there a few times before, so last he checked it was still standing. Luke had been happy to share the location with Jacen, hoping it would grant him insight in his journey. Luke was concerned about Jacen initially, but eventually was among the first to relent and agree with his intentions to go on this pilgrimage. Luke was also more meditative and introspective in his understanding of the Force, and he and Jacen had grown very close during the search for Zonama Sekot. Jacen believed Luke himself was beginning to develop a more holistic understanding of the Force, so he was sure his uncle was very interested in what Jacen may come to discover during his travels.

Jacen turned his attention to the vast expanse of desert around him. The twin suns blazed mercilessly, their light bouncing off the pale sand and searing his eyes. Heatwaves shimmered on the horizon, and every breath brought the dry, metallic taste of dust. As he trudged along, he noticed the two shadows of his body extending along the sand, cast by the suns. They were outstretched and twisted, almost a mocking mirror of himself, and they seemed to look right at each other. Jacen blinked harshly and looked away, hoping he hadn’t made a terrible mistake walking out here by himself. His speeder had broken down a kilometer back, and he wasn’t able to get it fired back up. He wasn’t nearly as technically savvy as his sister or as Anakin was, so he opted instead just to go the old-fashioned way instead of waiting for a Jawa crawler to possibly come scuttling by.

Over the dune he was standing on, he spotted a ridge in the distance. Taking out his binocs from his pack, Jacen zoomed in on the ridge and could make out a lone structure overlooking the cliffside. That had to be it. Smiling to himself and wiping the sweat off his brow, Jacen looked forward to reaching some kind of shelter. And, hopefully, some answers.

Jacen set off towards the ridge, the sand becoming more and more sparse and cracked, dry rock becoming the new ground under his boots. Having spent so much of his childhood in the jungles of Yavin 4 and the sprawling metropolis of Coruscant, Jacen was never fond of deserts. They were so desolate and devoid of life, aside from the harshest of sparsely populated species. Jacen loved all animal and plant life, but even he had to admit most of the native species of Tatooine weren’t exactly the most lovable of all creatures. Was this where it had started? On this barren world, with no more than a slave’s dream of freedom? Luke had spoken of this place with reverence, as the birthplace of his own transformation. Perhaps this world held the answers Jacen sought, or perhaps it was simply a place to hear the silence and listen to his heart. Either way, he found himself missing the hot water of a refresher station or the shade of a tree on Yavin 4, until he remembered the significance of his journey and zeroed back in on the task at hand.

Who knows, maybe Obi-Wan’s hut had such amenities as running water, though Jacen doubted it.

As Jacen trudged up the ridge, a flicker in the Force indicated some signs of life. A few smaller lifeforms, maybe a few womp rats or worrts burrowing into the dirt of the hillside. But there was something larger, too. Humanoid, up near the hut. Jacen hadn’t seen a humanoid since Anchorhead, and he found himself initially relieved before caution creeped up his spine. Maybe the hut was resettled by a farmer? In that case, whatever might have been left over in the hut would likely have been disposed of. Or, it could be a scavenger, a Jawa or scrap seller. Or worse, it might be a Tusken Raider. The native sentients of Tatooine, they were a tribal species that were harshly territorial and aggressive to outsiders. But, based on what little Jacen knew of them, they traveled in groups and never without their banthas. Jacen sensed no large mammal, and it was only one humanoid by the hut, so he could hopefully cross Tuskens from the list of possibilities. He had encountered little danger on his journey thus far, and Jacen feared being forced to violence would do nothing but hamper his concentration on the Force.

As Jacen approached the hut, now within stone-throwing distance, he noted how weathered and battered it was. It looked lost to time, almost resembling an oddly shaped boulder more than a hut. That likely meant it wasn’t permanently resettled. A scavenger, then. Jacen hoped they weren’t the aggressive sort of scavenger.

As he got closer, he spotted an old beat up speeder parked next to the hut, likely belonging to the hut’s other visitor. It was a modified SoroSuub of some kind, with additional cargo space hastily strapped onto the hull. Definitely a scavenger. Jacen sighed and hoped whoever was in the hut was friendly enough to let a fellow visitor look around a bit. Was he still that hopeful after everything? Maybe that’s a good sign.

Jacen walked around the property, finding the entrance to the hut, the door slid open. He sensed the scavenger inside, and heard the clanging of metal and junk. He took a deep breath and, making a mental note of his lightsaber tucked away under his poncho, peeked inside. He’d better make himself known so he doesn’t accidentally scare the scavenger and get greeted with a blaster bolt to the chest.

“Hello?” Jacen called out. The clanging of metal ceased, and a moment of silence gripped Jacen as he awaited a response.

“Who’s there?” came a reply. The voice was rough and dry, like the landscape around them. This guy had definitely worked out here for a while.

“A fellow traveler. I’m not interested in taking anything, I’m just looking for some shelter. My speeder broke down a klick or so back.”

Jacen heard shuffling down the hall to the left, before a man peeked around the corridor. He was shorter, middle-aged, with dark, leathery skin and a balding head. He wore coarse fabrics over some kind of jumpsuit, and his belt was adorned with all kinds of pouches and tools. In his hand was a crate hook, gripped tightly and pointed to Jacen.

“You’re just a kid,” the man replied gruffly. “Dune Sea’ll kill you.”

“Just passing through. Like I said, my speeder broke down. Do you live here?” Jacen kept an eye on the man’s crate hook, which began to slowly lower, though the man kept his eyes fixed sharply on him.

“No one’s lived here for years, I figure. I’m just looking to see if there’s anything left.”

“Any luck?”

The man stifled a laugh. “You find me a house that’s been abandoned this long in the Dune Sea that isn’t picked clean, and I’ll give you a million credits.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m on my way to Anchorhead to sell off my haul, and I figured I might as well give this a shot. I should’ve figured as much.”

Jacen smiled at the joke and slowly raised a hand. “I’m Jacen, nice to meet you.”

The man eyed Jacen’s hand before giving a grunt-like noise and nodding. “Grannok.” He then kept his eyes on Jacen for half a second more before heading back inside the room he was searching through. “Stay as long as you like, it’s not my house either! But I got first claims on anything good in here!”

Jacen had already entered the house and was scanning the room to the right of the entrance. “That’s fine,” he called absently. The moment Jacen entered the house, he realized the flicker in the Force he had felt earlier wasn’t just about the life forms- the hut itself was lingering with Force energy. Or, rather, the Force was calling to Jacen to come inside. He knew he was right to come here. Even if he didn't find anything, maybe being somewhere so right in the Force could generate some kind of idea, some thought, some lead on what was next. Though, Jacen did hope he found something. Luke had said he had picked the place clean of all of Obi-Wan’s old journals, holocrons, and other important items, but maybe he missed something. Maybe the old Jedi Master had hidden something away Luke hadn’t discovered. Maybe.

As Jacen sifted through the old trunks, shelves, and cupboards, he thought more about Obi-Wan. He, like his grandfather, died before Jacen was born, but he was almost just as important as Anakin was. Obi-Wan trained Anakin Skywalker, then failed to stop his fall. Even after death, he guided Luke, mentored and trained him to confront his old pupil.

The pupil that Obi-Wan had failed to kill.

Jacen sighed in frustration at just how little he knew about it all. Why did Obi-Wan agree to train Anakin? Was he assigned him as an apprentice, or Padawan, as they called them? Did he choose Anakin, or vice versa, like the Jedi of today do? What was their relationship like? Did Obi-Wan want to kill Anakin or merely stop him? Was he a good master? So many questions that cause so much confusion. Jacen sat on the old, dusty couch, and pondered these thoughts and more. Obi-Wan failed, that much Jacen knew. He had failed to defeat Anakin, and he likely failed as a master. If he had been a better teacher, then Anakin likely wouldn’t have turned. Was it because he was too harsh, or too lax? Did he instill a rigid fear of the dark side, like he did with Luke, or was that a newfound fear that came after failing to properly warn Anakin of such dark arts? It’s all so…unknown.

Again, Jacen honed in on what he did know: failure. Obi-Wan’s, the old Jedi Order’s. Their rigid dogma, their fear of attachment- had they doomed Anakin before he ever fell? Did he fail to perfectly fit into their strict, suffocating world, and thus caught in a spiral of rejecting his own human emotions and vying for an unachievable standard?

Maybe that’s what made Anakin turn- loving too much in a world that forbade it. The Jedi had learned not to fear love. Without it, Luke wouldn’t have married Mara, and Ben wouldn’t exist. Jacen wouldn’t have felt the bond with Tenel Ka he cherished. Love wasn’t the danger the old Jedi feared.

Jacen wondered, then, if Obi-Wan failed not because he was weak, but because he belonged to an order that had limited itself. The old Jedi had drawn hard lines, clinging to rigid doctrine, and in doing so, they had closed themselves off to the full truth of the Force. But what did that mean now? Luke’s order had abandoned those limitations, embracing the idea that the Force was vast and interconnected, that it could not be neatly divided into light and dark. Jedi no longer lived in fear of their own emotions, of love, of passion. And yet, Jedi still lost themselves. The war had proved that. Maybe it wasn’t about light and dark at all. Maybe the Force was simply the Force, and only the Jedi’s perception of it had ever changed. But if that were true, then why did so many still falter? Was it because they were holding onto echoes of the old ways? Or because they still weren’t looking far enough, deep enough?

Is the new Jedi Order just another failure?

Jacen’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a wave of life through the Force. A group was approaching, with large animals alongside them.

Tuskens.

Closing his eyes and silently cursing his luck, Jacen stood up from the couch and listened for the approaching raiders. Surely enough, the sounds of footsteps and banthas baying came from outside. Right as Jacen moved closer to the door, Grannok peeked out from the room he had been searching. Jacen raised a hand to Grannok and another to his mouth, indicating for him to stay where he is and be quiet.

“Tuskens,” Jacen whispered. Grannok’s eyes bulged and he reached for a blaster pistol that was resting on a shelf, presumably his. Jacen once again raised a hand to Grannok.

“There’s too many, and they haven’t spotted us. Let’s hide.”

“Have you gone space sick?” Grannok whispered angrily. “My haul is out there in my speeder! They’ll tear it apart and leave me stranded.”

“Better that than your life,” Jacen pleaded. “Please, trust me.” He gently stretched out with the Force, hoping he’d be able to abate Grannok’s nerves and subtly influence his reasoning.

Grannok’s eyes darted outside to the sounds of the approaching Tuskens and back to Jacen, before looking down at his measly, beat-up blaster. Finally he sighed. “Fine, I found a spot back here I can crawl into, but you’ve got to find your own spot.”

“That’s fine,” Jacen said. “Just go in there and don’t come out until they’re gone.”

“Don’t be giving orders now,” Grannok spat. “I’m three times your age, son.”

“Just hide!”

Grannok considered protesting again, but the sounds of dismounting Tuskens grunting and honking in their language made him think otherwise. The older man turned back into the room and went to hide.

Satisfied, Jacen turned and headed back into the other room, scanning for a place to hide. His eyes snapped to and fro, looking for a closet, crawlspace, anything. Eventually he spotted something- a door to some kind of refresher station, partially blocked by some knocked over crates. Not having time to move them himself, Jacen stretched out with the Force and quickly moved the crates aside, hoping they didn’t make too much noise. Jacen smashed the entrance button and was secretly overjoyed to find that the hut still had power. He darted inside the refresher, pulled the crates up to the door with the Force, and shut the door.

Jacen found himself in total darkness, in a small room that smelled like dust and failing infrastructure. He listened intently for the Tuskens, and could hear a few of them approach the house. They conversed briefly in their harsh, aggressive language, before entering the hut. Jacen tensed up, a hand creeping to the lightsaber under his poncho. He really didn’t want this to become a fight, he’s had more than enough of that, but if he or Grannok were threatened, what else was he to do? He couldn’t speak Tusken, Tahiri unfortunately never taught him. Even if he could, Tuskens are notoriously aggressive, and aren’t known for negotiating. It’s best to avoid them if and whenever possible. Jacen closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, prodding the minds of the Tuskens. If he could suggest to them they should leave…

His thoughts were interrupted by the grunting and howling of Tuskens, followed by protests by Grannok. He’s been discovered! Cursing to himself, Jacen quickly made a decision. He had to act quickly, in case Grannok decided to fight back and get himself killed. Reaching out with the Force, Jacen swung open the refresher door, pushing back the crates, and dashed into the room. Down the corridor, he spotted two Tuskens, armed with gaffi sticks, one on either side of Grannok, who was being pushed and prodded down the hall. He’s caught in between them, Jacen thought. A dangerous place to be, if this came down to a fight.

Jacen pulled his lightsaber from under his poncho, but didn’t ignite it yet. The Tuskens faced Jacen, their sticks raised in battle positions, and yelled to him. One pointed to the floor, indicating that he should get on the ground, Jacen reasoned. Jacen didn’t budge. Grannok stood still, his eyes screaming at Jacen to comply.

“Leave this place, there’s nothing for you here!” Jacen called out, projecting his words through the language barrier with the Force and into the ears of the Tuskens, hoping his Force-imbued words will suggest to them that they should cut their losses. One of the Tuskens merely growled out a harsh-sounding word, while the other began to look outside the open door and back at Jacen and Grannok, as if he was weighing his options.

Jacen kept it up. “Leave now...please!” He repeated, spreading his legs a little farther apart and assuming a battle stance, his unignited lightsaber raised to just above his waist, gripped in both hands. He pulsed with the Force, prodding the Tuskens as hard as he dared without outright grabbing hold of their minds. If this standoff keeps up, he might just need to will them out of here, but if he can do this with mere suggestion, all the better.

Eventually, both Tuskens began to lower their guard and look out the door. The one to the left of the confused and frightened Grannok grunted to the one on the right, before they both turned to leave.

A red flicker of energy rang out and whizzed past Jacen. He turned his head to see a Tusken just right outside the doorway, having just walked up and seen the two humans standing inside with his kinsmen and decided to attack with his cycler rifle. Jacen immediately ignited his lightsaber, its green hue illuminating the dimly lit house. Blaster bolts, Jacen thought. He was going to have to fight them, after all. But first, he had to get Grannok out of the way.

The next few actions happened in an instant. Jacen, not taking any chances, reached out with the Force and pulled Grannok towards him, causing the man to stumble, roll forward, and come to a rest right next to Jacen. He hoped he hadn’t accidentally hurt the man, but better a twisted ankle than a shattered skull. As soon as Grannok had cleared from the path, Jacen dashed forward, deflecting two more blaster shots and charging towards the two melee fighters. Jacen came between them and ducked to dodge a swing from the left. Whilst crouched, Jacen kicked out and struck the right Tusken in the leg, causing him to stumble and fall to one knee. Jacen swung up to block a strike from the left, splitting the tip of the gaffi stick, then pushed the Tusken backwards with Force-imbued strength. Another shot deflected, this time almost bouncing back and hitting the rifleman in return.

Jacen brought his lightsaber down and cut the crouched Tusken’s gaffi stick in half as the injured raider had been raising it for a counter attack. Once the stick was split in two, Jacen reached out with the Force and shoved the two melee fighters to the ground, the left one hitting his head against the wall and falling in an awkward daze. Another blaster bolt whizzed past Jacen’s head, too close for comfort. He dashed outside into the overwhelming sunlight, deflected a shot, and brought his lightsaber down to slice off the barrel of the cycler rifle. The Tusken dropped the rifle, and Jacen raised his lightsaber to point directly at the Tusken.

“Surrender,” he said with Force-imbued strength, hoping the message was clear enough. The Tusken hesitated, grunting with rage, before slowly raising his hands in the air. His head was just slightly angled to the left, and Jacen could suddenly sense it. He turned around just in time to see a Tusken swinging his gaffi stick at the Jedi. Jacen acted on instinct, his blade slicing through the raider's chest. The air filled with the acrid scent of burning flesh. A stunned silence followed. Another body. Another failure.

Suddenly, Jacen wasn’t at Obi-Wan Kenobi’s hut in the middle of the day. He was…somewhere, the details hazy and murky as if he was half-asleep. His peripherals were gone, his object permanence stunted, and the images were distorted, but he could tell he was in some kind of tent at night. Before him, he saw a grizzly scene. A young man wearing Jedi robes, holding the mangled body of a woman, dying in his arms.

“I love…I love-” she was saying, before her eyes suddenly glazed over and the life left her. The man grew distressed and his body began to shake, his eyes welling with tears.

“Stay with me, Mom!” he was saying, his voice trembling as he desperately cradled her face and looked around, hoping there was something, anything he could do to fix this. But there wasn’t anything, except one thing. Jacen noticed the rage creep onto the man’s face, a hateful, spiteful, divine anger. His eyes were ice cold, his face rigid, and his breath mechanical. Suddenly, Jacen began to piece together who he was seeing. He couldn’t tell if it was instinctual recognition, or the Force, or whatever else, but this man was his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin’s shoulders trembled- not with grief, but with something darker, something primal. His hands clenched into fists, and Jacen could feel the tremors in the Force, like a storm waiting to break.

Then, Anakin looked up. Right at Jacen.

Their eyes met across time, across generations. Jacen felt the weight of his grandfather’s rage, the heat of his pain. And beneath it all, a familiar fear- one Jacen knew all too well. The fear of losing control.

Setting his mother down gently, Anakin rose and walked past Jacen, as if he wasn’t even there. He moved methodically to the tent entrance, his steps deliberate and heavy. The moment he opened the tent door, though, his body became a flurry of fluid, dancelike motions. A dance of death. He first slew the guards at the door, before charging forward to bring death and fear to the now armed and panicking Tuskens around the camp. Jacen watched in horror and fascination, getting a glimpse of his grandfather, in awe at his skill and his prowess. But even more so, his anger…and his passion. He loved his mother so much, Jacen could tell. He acted with reckless abandon, fighting to avenge someone so close to him. How very un-Jedi of him, Jacen thought. Was this when Anakin turned to the dark side? It couldn’t be, could it? He seemed so young, younger than Jacen is now, and this wasn’t an act of evil, was it?

Jacen struggled to keep that opinion as Anakin turned his attention to a tent of Tusken families, and he tried to look away, but the vision wouldn’t let him. It was terrible, and Jacen felt sick. But still, he thought, this wasn’t evil in the way Vader ordering the destruction of planets was evil. His mother had just died in his arms to these people, and he was acting in blind rage and heartbreak. This could be expected of a young, powerful Jedi who was told not to feel emotions, not to fear loss. Now both of those things were smothering his very existence, and he was expected to just take it in stride?

Jacen couldn’t condone this…but he understood. For a fleeting moment, Jacen didn’t just witness Anakin’s pain- he felt it. The desire to lash out, to make the galaxy pay for its cruelty, burned in his chest. He recoiled, horrified. But the echo lingered, a shadow at the edge of his mind.

Suddenly, Jacen blinked and he was back at Obi-Wan’s hut. The dead Tusken lay before him, a cauterized chest wound right in the middle of his ribs. Jacen could see the other Tuskens fleeing down the ridge, riding their banthas. He looked to the right and saw Grannok standing by his speeder, a hand on the door, staring back at Jacen. He looked like he saw a ghost.

“You alright, son?” He asked. Jacen nodded distantly. Grannok, expecting more of a response and not getting one, thought for a moment before asking, “You a Jedi?”

Jacen, lost in thought, once again gave a nod. “Yeah.”

Grannok responded with a low whistle. “Well, that’s a first for me. I’m glad those Vong didn’t do you all in, if you ask me.”

Jacen didn’t respond, his mind tangled in the vision- and the dead Tusken. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But it always did. The Force, in all its vastness, seemed to mock his futile quest for peace. Was this how it began for Anakin? One death at a time until justice and power blurred into nothing? Jacen clenched his jaw, the weight of his lightsaber suddenly heavier at his side. During the war, violence had felt necessary, even righteous. But now? Now it just felt inevitable.

“Alright, well if that’s all, I better be going,” Grannok said, awkwardly trying to wrap things up and crawl into his speeder. “Thanks for the help, uh, Jacen.”

Jacen nodded again and this time smiled to Grannok and waved. Suddenly, he thought of something and reached out a hand. “Oh, wait! Could you give me a ride into town?”

Grannok agreed, and Jacen found himself whizzing through the Dune Sea, his hair flowing in the wind, as he looked out at the now setting twin suns. Tatooine had given him answers, but not the ones he wanted. For the first time, he didn’t just know his grandfather’s story. He felt it. And that terrified him more than any battle ever had.

Jacen had to make his next decision quickly, but this felt right. Here, he reflected on the failure of the old Jedi Order, how their rigid views on emotion, love, evil, and good aided in pushing Anakin to darkness. But was that always the case? Was Luke’s order, and Vergere, pioneers in the sense of opening up a more nuanced philosophy of the Force? Or, as Jacen suspected, was the dogmatic, binary views of the old Jedi a later development, created out of fear or ignorance? There was only one way to find out.

Jacen had to leave Tatooine, and he knew where he needed to go.

Chapter Text

The forests of Ossus rang out with the cries of a flock of avian creatures, the flap of their wings blowing the leaves as they took off from their perches. They flew over the lush woods of the planet, their shadows cast over the bright greens and deep browns. Deep below, underneath the tree-capped ceiling, a team of Jedi moved as one. Bound by an invisible thread of the Force, the Jedi ran through the wilds- a blur of brown, a tumble of blond, a leaping streak of blue. Less individuals, more a single, fluid mind. The Jedi mind meld, honed during the war, let them slip into this unity with ease, acting and thinking as one.

Leading the charge through the underbrush, Jaina Solo lept and bounded past the bushes and trees without a moment of hesitation, without a second to consider her next move. She had no need to, the Force dictated the actions of her and her companions. They knew exactly what to do and where to go. Her face was wet with sweat, but her lungs barely burned, her body hardly ached. The Force flew through her and kept her full of energy and speed. She was a conduit, heading straight for her destination, her fellow Jedi tailing close behind.

Coming up close behind was Zekk, his shoulder length black hair pulled tight into a ponytail to keep it from covering his handsome face as he dove through the shrubbery. His face was stone, his eyes dead-set on the task at hand, his breath coming in rhythmic bursts as he dashed ahead. 

Moving in tandem behind Zekk was Lowbacca, the towering brown-haired Wookiee and Tahiri Veila, a shorter blond-haired girl moving alongside him. Lowbacca would swing on a tree branch or launch himself off a trunk, Tahiri would roll underneath the branch or swing alongside the massive trunk as her friend came barreling through beside her. They would switch levels, cross paths, and coordinate their next moves in perfect harmony, the Force allowing them to behave as a single thinking entity.

Finally, guarding their rear, Alema Rar shot through the forest like a blue blaster bolt. A Twi’lek, her oceanic skin and twin lekkus provided a stark contrast to the earth-toned forest around her. She was quick, and could’ve easily overtaken the rest of the group, besides maybe Jaina. But she understood her assignment, to keep an eye out for threats from behind and ensure no Jedi got lost or fell back. After every other leap or flip, she would dart her eyes to the left or right, and stretch out with the Force to feel for life forms behind them. Aside from the many native creatures of the planet, going about their business, none to be found. Still, Alema remained vigilant, her resolve as solid as beskar. 

And so the Jedi swam through the green ocean of Ossus’ forests, quickly approaching their destination.

“Almost a week of nothing but bugs and blisters,” Zekk muttered as he bound through the green. “Tell me, why couldn’t we have been assigned to Mon Calamari for this?”

“Because we’re Jedi, not tourists,” Jaina said absently.

“Speak for yourself,” Tahiri quipped, her voice light but her eyes distant. She moved just as gracefully as the others, but she was noticeably more on guard than her friends. Every rustle of the trees, every creeping shadow, put her more on edge, a leftover symptom of all she had been through.

Finally, with a single powerful break through the treeline, they arrived at their target. An untrained eye might have missed it on an initial glance, but the Jedi knew what they were looking for. Blended amongst the trees, shrubs, and vines, what was once likely a very impressive stone structure stood. Now, it was crumbled, cracked, and consumed by the world- a monument not to failure, but to change. The Jedi of today weren’t here to rebuild the past; they were here to understand it, to learn what it meant to move forward.

Today, though, this was just a pit stop in the Jedi's real mission out here- survive a week in the wilderness with nothing but themselves and their lightsabers. It was part of the Jedi’s effort to reconnect, not just with each other, but with the Force itself. After the war, the Jedi had stepped away from battle and back into understanding. The wilds of Ossus were their proving ground, not as warriors, but as seekers.

Lowbacca gave a satisfied growl. Jaina, fluent enough in Shyriiwook, knew that he was expressing excitement at having found their target. The rest of the Jedi, so connected in the Force, were also able to understand most of Lowbacca's speech at this point, though.

The Jedi fanned out, taking in the beauty of the old ruined structure. Zekk blew a low whistle. “What is it? Or, rather, what did it used to be?”

“I think Tionne said it was an old living facility, a place for Jedi to go to get away from the main temple and live in smaller clusters,” Tahiri said, quietly admiring such a place. She had once loved to be the center of attention, but as of late, the idea of living in the middle of the forest away from prying eyes sounded pretty swell.

“Well, let’s see if we can find an easy entrance. Take a rest, have a look around, report back to me if you find anything interesting,” Jaina said, rubbing her sweaty hands on her jumpsuit legs and adjusting her frizzled braid. “Let the meld fall for a while, gather yourself.”

With that, the Jedi collectively exhaled and let the meld fade away, concentrating the Force back into themselves and their own connection to the living world around them. Even then, the link with each other didn't fade away entirely. A leftover of the mind meld. Every Jedi who had went on that mission to Myrkr felt such a connection to each other now, a phenomena still being studied and understood amongst the order.

The Jedi began to wander the grounds, keeping an eye out for an open door or a noticeably large gaping wound in the building.

Finding a jutting ledge created by a cave-in around the back of the building, Alema used the Force to propel her nimble body through the air and onto the crumbling platform. Light-footed, she prevented any further breakage or debris to fall with her landing, but she was sure to carefully navigate the fragile structure as she examined the top of the building. She was on the remains of the second and top floor. Most of the ceiling had crumbled and provided an open air view into the blue skies above, and a cavernous hole starting to her left and traveling to the core of the room provided ample entrance into the ground floor of the structure.

Alema swept her eyes around the crumbling room, her senses primed to find anything of note. She was aware, yes, but her mind was distant, clouded. She reached out to the Force, not the light or the dark, but to the all-encompassing life around her, but it was hard. Ever since Numa, ever since the voxyn, she had felt...separate. Not to everyone, though. Her fellow companions to Myrkr were still close to her. Maybe too close. Their presence in the Force was overwhelming at times, creeping into her thoughts day and night. But, whenever she tried to reach out to others, to those who hadn't been there, the connection felt loose, thin. Maybe Myrkr had changed her forever, despite her efforts to reconnect with the Force and the galaxy around her. Maybe she was making progress. Silently hoping so, Alema leapt over a gap in the floor and began to search another room.

On the ground floor, Jaina watched as Lowbacca and Tahiri discovered a crevice in between the debris that they could squeeze through. Planning on catching up with them later, she granted herself a reprieve and sat down on a nearby log, figuratively shedding the responsibility of the mission for half a second to give herself over to the living Force around her.

Or, at least, she tried.

Jaina was never as good at introspection and meditation as her brother. She was always the one to take action, seize the day. Whenever Luke or Mara or Corran or any of her other teachers told her to slow down and meditate, weigh her options, she felt almost like an X-Wing with a full throttle being pulled into a tractor beam. Ever since the war, ever since Jacen left, she had tried her best to try and take more time for such moments, and she had certainly done better. Still, she couldn’t help but feel for every second she’s looking inward, there’s something out there that could be done. The galaxy was a mess, her friends needed help, and she was the Sword of the Jedi. She knew it was a hotheaded and immature position to hold, and she really was trying.

So Jaina reached out and mentally grasped the Force, falling into its embrace and sought the peace it could bring. The mission can wait, her training can wait, the galaxy can wait, Jacen will be fine. Right then, she needed to relax.

“Doesn’t seem to be much here.”

Jaina’s eyes shot open and she sighed ever so subtly. Zekk had walked up behind her, not sensing her meditation. “You’ve got a real knack for timing, you know that?”

“Hey, what can I say?” he said, sitting beside her, looking out to the dilapidated ruin before them. “I aim to keep things interesting.”

Jaina didn’t respond, she just smiled lightly and looked out to the treeline, admiring the beauty of Ossus. It was so much like Yavin 4. They could never replace the old Praxeum, the site of much of Jaina’s upbringing and training, but Ossus was a close second.

“You’ve been quiet,” Zekk said, his tone casual but his eyes, sharp and perceptive, didn’t miss much.

Jaina snickered. “Quiet? Tahiri would say I’ve been bossy.”

“She would not,” Zekk retorted. “She knows you’ve got a lot of responsibilities.”

Jaina shrugged and looked to the ruins. She could feel the Jedi inside, moving about and searching for something, anything. “I don’t know, I’m just thinking a lot. Jacen’s out there, figuring things out for himself, while I’m here sifting through old rubble and training like I’m a kid on Yavin 4 again. It’s hard to pretend the galaxy isn’t a mess.”

“You aren’t pretending, you’re leading,” Zekk replied, his voice firm but warm. “You can’t fix everything in a day. Jacen has his path, and you have yours.”

Jaina, trying to keep things light, turned to Zekk and smiled. “Since when did you get so wise?”

Zekk grinned sheepishly. “When you’re around wise masters like Luke and Kyle long enough, you learn a thing or two.”

“Found something!” Alema’s voice echoed out of the ruin and into the open air. Zekk and Jaina looked at each other, remembered their task, and rose from the log to follow Alema’s voice. They hopped up onto the ledge, where Tahiri and Lowbacca already stood. 

Alema was across a gap, standing over an old, rusted chest of some kind. In her hand she held a small object.

“Toss it over!” Jaina called. Alema nodded and, using the Force, guided the object to the other girl’s hands. Jaina studied it. It was the size of her palm, dusty and metallic, and faint etches of some archaic tongue dotted the faces of it.

Lowbacca grunted. Jaina nodded in confirmation. "It's an old Jedi holocron," she said. The holocron was ancient, rudimentary, and likely not in great shape. But it still radiated ever so subtly in the Force, a dying light flickering with ancient knowledge and energy. 

“You think Tionne will find this interesting?” Tahiri asked, studying the relic in Jaina’s hands. 

“Absolutely,” the older girl replied. “It might not have much left to decipher on it, but we’ll take what we can get.” Tahiri nodded at this and smiled. As far as the Jedi were concerned, this was a success.

Their contentment with the find was cut short when Jaina felt a tug in the Force, gentle but urgent.

Luke.

Her uncle’s presence washed over her like a cool breeze cutting through the forest’s humid air. It was calming but insistent, a summons that left no room for delay. Whatever it was, it couldn’t wait. Jaina looked up at her companions. They had felt it too, she could see it in their faces.

Nodding firmly, Jaina tucked the holocron into her pouch, her mind briefly flickering to Jacen. He would’ve been the first to dive into its secrets, eager to uncover whatever forgotten wisdom it held. But he wasn’t here. That job was hers now. She stretched her arms and legs, getting ready to dash back to the temple. The galaxy wasn’t going to wait for them to finish digging through the past. “Assignment’s over early,” she announced. “Let’s see what my uncle needs from us.”

***

The journey back to the temple wasn’t terribly long, but the change in atmosphere was palpable. The wilds of Ossus, the buzzing of nature and the cries of the native creatures gave way to the calming serenity of the Jedi Temple. Ancient, towering stone structures alongside newly built, pristine buildings, blending the old and the new orders of Jedi Knights. The planet had been officially resettled by the Order at the end of the Yuuzhan Vong War the previous year, and much work had been done to make Ossus once again a home and sanctuary for the Jedi of the galaxy, and to once again begin training another generation of Force-sensitive students.

Jaina and the others walked briskly through the courtyard, passing by a small group of younglings practicing their telekinesis with Tionne Solusar, the Jedi historian and trainer of the young initiates at the temple. Tionne, one of Luke’s first students, had trained Jaina, Jacen, and their friends. Her husband, Kam, was another founding member of the academy back on Yavin 4, and was one of the top dueling instructors in the order. Tionne, surprised to see them back early, waved to the Jedi as they passed. We'll bring her the holocron after seeing Luke, Jaina thought. Hopefully she’d be able to get something of value from it.

Entering the main complex of the temple, Jaina and the others headed up finely carved stone stairs towards the conference chamber Luke could be sensed in. The room was used as a meeting place for the Jedi and guests to Ossus, as well as a sort of observatory overlooking the courtyard. Jaina couldn’t help but smile to herself as they headed down the hall, passing by all sorts of Jedi. So many of them had perished in the war, going from around a hundred strong to around half that by the time peace talks began. However, in just a year’s time, those numbers had begun to swell again. Kam and Tionne had kept many of the young Jedi children safe thanks to Luke’s Great River he had established during the war, and the popularity of the Jedi, now noticeably higher than in the pre-war days, had made it easy for the order to locate and induct new Jedi trainees. It would take time for those new students to grow, age, and become official members of the order, but so much progress had been made already. Jaina’s thoughts were shared by her companions, as they too pondered how close the Jedi had come to becoming extinct once again less than two years ago.

At the doors to the conference chamber, Corran Horn stood, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his green robes as he leaned against the wall. When he saw Jaina and the others, he flashed a charming smile and bowed, his green eyes and silvery-brown hair giving him an air of attractiveness and wisdom. 

“Welcome back,” he said. “I trust you’re happy to be back from assignment early.”

The Jedi bowed back as Jaina responded. “You’d be surprised. Getting away from the watchful eye of the galaxy and running around the forest for a few days was pretty therapeutic, to be honest.”

“And no one was there to shoot at us or send us to blow something up,” Zekk piped in.

Corran laughed at this and shrugged. “Trust me, I get it. I’ve been in this game longer than some of you have been alive,” he said, his eyes meeting Tahiri, the youngest Jedi here and Corran’s pupil. “Unfortunately, duty calls, as usual. Luke wants to speak with you specifically, Jaina. The rest of you will be briefed afterwards.”

Jaina nodded in understanding before turning to her friends. “Sorry, guys. Head to the refresher and I’ll meet up with you all in the living quarters, yeah?” The Jedi agreed to this, though Alema seemed to be holding back frustration at being excluded from the briefing. Jaina made a mental note to speak with her about that. She, of course, noticed and knew of Alema’s fiery temper and internal struggles. She had been through a lot, from losing her teacher Daeshara’cor in the war, to her sister to the voxyn, to being a part of the blasted mission to Myrkr. Jaina had struggled with anger and misplaced frustration herself, and she hoped one day to get through the Alema and help her friend find some peace with her place in things.

For now, though, she merely waved as her friends headed to clean up. Zekk flashed her a charming smile, and Jaina rolled her eyes ever so slightly. That was a whole other jar of Kowakian monkeys, one Jaina hadn’t the time or energy to think about right now. Duty called.

Jaina turned to Corran, who had already headed down the hallway to catch up with Tahiri. She had returned from Zonama Sekot a month ago, and Corran had been eager to pick up the training they had promised to begin with each other in the last days of the war. Jaina smiled at the image of Corran excitedly explaining a new technique he wanted Tahiri to try. An apprentice will do him good, and it’ll be even better for Tahiri, she figured.

Pushing aside all other thoughts and exhaling to herself, wishing she had stopped to at least wash her face, Jaina opened the doors to the conference chamber and stepped in.

She was greeted by the sight of a Yuuzhan Vong.

Her fingers twitched toward her lightsaber before she caught herself. Old instincts. Old wounds. A year wasn’t long enough to erase a lifetime of war. She knew it wasn’t the Jedi way to immediately be pulled towards violence, but after what the Vong had done to her galaxy, her family and friends, could she be sure accepting them as neighbors was the proper way forward?

It wasn’t her call to make, though, so instead Jaina swallowed her surprise and bowed to the Yuuzhan Vong. He was a male, wearing oddly textured vestments, likely of some kind of biological material. His face was fairly normal for Vong standards, but Jaina couldn’t help but notice the several scars and dips in his face, likely leftovers from wartime implants that he had since shed. 

Master Luke Skywalker, de facto leader of the Jedi Order and Jaina’s uncle, stood beside the Yuuzhan Vong. Humble and unassuming despite his legendary status, he wore simple brown and tan robes. His sandy hair, streaked with gray, framed a face lined with quiet wisdom and a warm smile meant just for her.

By the window, Mara Jade Skywalker leaned against the transparisteel, arms crossed. A flicker of red hair caught the light- untamed, as always. Green eyes, sharp with experience, studied Jaina like a holomap, measuring, weighing. Jaina had spent years trying to match that strength.

Standing next to Mara was Cal Omas- or rather, a blue hologram representing him. The Chief of State remained on Mon Calamari, coordinating the Galactic Alliance’s reconstruction efforts. Jaina figured he hadn’t left the planet in a year, not with the mess the Yuuzhan Vong had left behind. The handful of times she had seen him since the war had been like this, a pixelated and digital blue projection of a man countless light years away. He smiled, his face creased with age lines and stress marks, and bowed to Jaina.

“Welcome back, Jaina,” said Luke. “I’m sorry to cut your assignment short, but it seems the Jedi are needed for a very important task.”

Jaina shook her head politely. “It’s no trouble, Master Skywalker. It’s what we’re here to do.”

Cal chuckled at this. “That’s what I love to hear, Jaina.” Cal had always been a friend of the Jedi, and it was indeed the efforts of Luke, Mara, and friends of theirs that had won him the election to Chief of State back on Mon Calamari. He was eternally grateful for that and, more importantly, for their efforts to win the war, and had continued to be a staunch political ally to the Jedi in these tenuous times. He motioned to Luke. “Do you want to begin?”

Luke nodded, before raising a hand to indicate the Vong. “First, let me introduce our guest. Jaina, this is Aglok Mon, a representative for the Yuuzhan Vong population on Kuat.”

Jaina, feigning cordiality, bowed politely to Aglok Mon. He bowed in turn, and his face twisted into what she could only assume to be a smile. Invisible in the Force, she had no clue if it was genuine or not. “It is an honor to meet one of the mighty Solo twins.”

Jaina pulled her lips tight at this. She had become so reliant on the Force, simple human insight and intuition had become more difficult for her. Was that sarcasm? A jab at the Vong corpses piled up behind Jaina and Jacen? She couldn’t tell, but she decided to accept it as Vong propriety. Suddenly, she blinked. “Did you say Kuat? You’re telling me the Vong agreed to settle on a planet covered in shipyards?”

Luke nodded. “I know it’s an unusual choice. But the Galactic Alliance is short on worlds willing to take them in.”

“And Kuat needed workers,” Jaina finished, frowning. “This was their idea?”

“Not exactly,” Cal admitted. His hologram flickered. “The Galactic Alliance Reconstruction Authority has been prioritizing devastated Core Worlds, funneling resources to Coruscant, Fondor, and Duro. That leaves Kuat’s corporations in a position where they claim to be struggling- despite profiting immensely during the war. Some of the Yuuzhan Vong have expressed a desire to leave Zonama Sekot and integrate with the galaxy, and, well, Kuat needs bodies."

“We were seen and saved by the wisdom of the Jeedai ,” said Aglok Mon. “Our gods misunderstood and abandoned us. Many of our kind seek to reignite our connection to the gods on our homeworld, but others, such as me and the others on Kuat, wish to forge our own path. If we are needed and wanted to work on a planet of technology, then that is our destiny.”

“So Kuat is willing to take you?” Jaina asked.

“Unfortunately,” Mara sighed. “It’s never that simple. For every corporation willing to employ Aglok Mon and his group, three more have been itching for an excuse to start a riot.”

“Protests, sanctions, and even some fights have broken out,” Luke said, his tone somber. 

“Protests?” Cal cut in. “These are coordinated attacks. Kuat’s corporations are sending thugs to destroy what little peace we’ve managed to salvage. That blasted Kuat Drive Yard is causing the biggest headache.” Cal’s holographic image flickered slightly, but his clenched jaw stayed steady, betraying his frustration.

Mara crossed her arms. “The Reconstruction Authority is doing its best to keep things running, but it can’t police corporate greed. Such things require a Jedi's touch.”

Jaina's hand twitched and she swallowed. She could see where this was going.

“This cannot be tolerated,” Cal continued. “It took some convincing, but I was able to gain support in my cabinet and among the Senate to request of you a Jedi mission to Kuat to mediate and settle the conflict.”

Jaina’s throat felt dry, her pulse a steady drumbeat against her temples.  A diplomatic mission? This wasn’t her field, far from it. She was a pilot, a warrior. But wasn't that the point? Jedi weren't supposed to be warriors. But the last time Jaina tried diplomacy, she was on Hapes, and she ended up using deceit, intimidation, and backhanded tactics to manipulate the Hapans and strike back against the Vong. Not her finest hour.

This was Jacen’s strength, not hers. But Jacen wasn’t here.

“That’s right,” Luke said. “Jaina, I’d like you and whoever Jedi you pick to go to Kuat and represent the Jedi Order in this matter, and find a solution for the conflict. Find out what exactly the corporations desire, and who is fanning the flames of tension and anger. Do what you must to appease them without sacrificing Yuuzhan Vong sovereignty or civility. They assure us they want to work and assimilate, but their traditions and ways must be respected, so long as they are peaceful.” He glanced an eye at Aglok Mon as he said this.

“We have shed our warrior ways, Master Jeedai ,” Aglok Mon said, bowing. “The shapers amongst my group have been working on ways to enhance the ecology of Kuat, providing fresher air and food for the population. Our retired warriors are willing to help mine and build, so long as their exposure to technology is kept to a minimum.”’

Mara’s fingers tapped idly against her belt, a subtle sign Jaina recognized as restrained impatience. All of this wasn’t her preferred field either, Jaina knew.

Luke nodded. “Make note of this, Jaina, and inspect the Yuuzhan Vong settlement yourself to back up their claims. Prove to the corporations that they have no reason to think they are doing anything wrong coming to Kuat.”

Jaina held up a respectful hand. “I appreciate you trusting me with this, Master, but am I the right choice for such a mission? I mean, I’m a pilot, I fight in battles. I’ve never really been a diplomat.”

Cal sighed. “Jaina, that is exactly what the enemies of the Jedi are saying in the government. The Jedi may no longer be part of the government, but the galaxy still looks to you. You’ve spent a year healing, and I respect that. But this is an opportunity to remind people what the Jedi are- peacekeepers.”

“Cal is right,” Luke said. “The Jedi are more respected and more popular than they were before the war, but tensions still exist. Since we’ve divided the High Council and become independent of the Galactic Alliance government, people like Fyor Rodan have stirred up suspicion regarding our purpose now that the war is over. The Force guides us to act where we are needed- not as warriors or diplomats, but as Jedi. This mission isn’t about sides, Jaina, or about proving our worth to the government. It’s about balance. If we don’t step in and resolve this conflict, it will escalate. You don’t have to be a diplomat, but you do have to listen- to the Force, to the people, and to the truth underneath all of it.”

“Besides,” Mara said. “You won’t be alone. With you and your team working on this together, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle this just fine.”

Jaina took this all in, and still she felt an uncomfortable pit in her stomach. This was such a tense situation, why was Luke entrusting her with it, and not Corran or Cilghal or any other Jedi with more experience in conferences and meetings? It felt unfair, like she was being set up for failure. That can’t be right, she thought. She knew why they had chosen her. Corran, and especially Cilghal, would negotiate until there was nothing left to say. Jaina wasn’t like that. She would listen, she would talk, but she would also push. Probe. Act. The war had taught her that sometimes, peace had to be forced into place. And in this new Jedi Order, where dark and light were both viable tools in pursuit of harmony, that made her an asset. 

Jaina hesitated, then drew a steadying breath. "I’ll do it. The Force brought this to me for a reason, so I'll listen.”

Luke smiled. “Good. Thank you, Jaina. I'll have Artoo upload the details of the mission to your ship." He thought for a moment, before adding, "I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but that’s precisely why I picked you. Now’s the chance for the face of Jedi warfare to prove that we aren’t just warriors.” He looked to Aglok Mon. “Will you allow Jaina and her Jedi to escort you back to Kuat?”

Jaina tensed. Great, now she has to carry a Vong back to Kuat? She’s going to be seeing plenty of them while they’re there.

Thankfully, Aglok Mon bowed and shook his head. “I would be honored, Master Jeedai , but I have my own transport, one of Yuuzhan Vong design. You understand, of course.”

Luke bowed gracefully. “Of course. In that case, expect the Jedi team to arrive within the next few days. They will be sure to come to a settlement that will benefit all, I’m certain of it.”

Jaina blushed a little. Luke was so confident in this mission’s success. What if she failed? She’d earn the ire of not only the Galactic Alliance government but the Yuuzhan Vong as well. Granted, she didn’t really care if they liked her or not, but to be seen as the Jedi that toppled the newfound peace, could she live with that?

Refocusing, Cal was saying his goodbyes to the room. “If you are sure, then I am sure, Luke,” he was saying. “Now, I’ve got several more meetings to attend before I can finally retire for the day. Take care, and good luck.”

“Likewise, Cal,” Luke said. Mara repeated the sentiment as Cal ended the transmission. 

Aglok Mon bowed in respect as he backed out of the room. “I must take my leave, Master Jeedai . I wish to be back with my people as soon as possible.” He looked to Jaina and gave another Vong-like smile. “I am eager to have you represent and aid our plight, Jeedai Solo.” 

Jaina managed a stiff smile, avoiding his gaze. “It will be my pleasure, Aglok Mon,” she said, hoping she sounded respectful.

“An escort will meet you outside the hall and take you back to your ship,” Luke said, as Mara headed to the communication console. “Safe travels, and don’t worry, we’ll come to a peaceful solution for all of this.”

The door hissed shut behind Aglok Mon, leaving a silence thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Jaina exhaled slowly, as if releasing the tension bottled since she’d first seen him. Now that she was alone with her fellow Jedi and family, she let her posture droop and her nerves finally show. Mara and Luke seemed similarly more casual, and anxious, as well. 

“Are you sure this is wise, Uncle Luke?” she asked. Jaina seemed like a kid again, being sent on her first assignments with Jacen, Tenel Ka, and the others. After so many years of war, being sent to negotiate seemed scarier than any battlefield. 

“I am, I can feel it,” Luke said. “But I also sense danger. There are still those who thrive on conflict, who want this to collapse into chaos. That’s why this mission needs Jedi- not as enforcers, but as seekers of balance. The Senate will try to use this as an opportunity to put us back under their control. That cannot happen, so we must be the ones to dictate the peace. No one here is blameless, Jaina. Listen carefully to all sides before deciding how to act.”

“Chin up, Jaina,” Mara said, half-smiling and putting a hand on her shoulder. “For a year, we’ve been healing, training, rebuilding. But now the Jedi are moving again. We're above serving politicians or armies, we listen to the Force alone. And the Force is telling us to start here.”

Jaina smiled back, though her eyes reflected sadness. “I just wish Jacen were here. He’d be great at this.”

Mara and Luke’s faces both similarly became somber. “Jacen’s path is his own,” Luke said. “He’s got a lot of things to work through, and only the Force knows where his destination lies. I’m sure when he finds what he’s looking for, he’ll return to us with much to share.” 

Jaina nodded in agreement, though she often found herself worrying more and more about her brother since he left. What would he get into, out there by himself? What is plaguing him so intensely that he has to leave everything behind to figure things out? They’ve hardly been able to be together, be a team, since the war had begun so long ago, and now that peace has arrived she’s left to hold it together without her other half, her best friend. 

Jaina blinked back the sting of tears, squaring her shoulders. She wasn’t just the Sword of the Jedi- she was her own blade, sharpened by war, now tempered by peace. It was time to prove it. She bowed to her aunt and uncle and left to wash up and debrief her friends. They’d all be asked to join her, she could use all the help she could get right now.

Chapter Text

As Jaina headed down the long hall of the academy, dreaming of a steaming hot fresher to wash away her nerves, she heard a familiar voice call out to her from behind, and a friendly tug in the Force alongside it.

“Jaina Solo!”

She turned back to see the handsome, smiling face of Kyp Durron. A tall, lean man with unkempt dark hair and dark eyes to match, Kyp was the posterboy for the roguish, charming Jedi the holovids always seemed to gloat over. His reputation certainly aided in this, given his notoriety as the firebrand of the Order.

Jaina smiled back and bowed to Kyp. “Nice to see you, Kyp,” she said.

Kyp snickered and waved a hand. “Ah, blast the formality, Jaina. I’m not your master, a smile and a wave is all I need.”

Jaina laughed to herself and nodded. “Got it. Care to walk with me? I’m on my way to the refresher to clean up.”

“Certainly,” Kyp said. “I’m supposed to meet with your uncle soon, but I’ve got some time to kill.” He noticed Jaina’s dirty clothing and messy braid. “You were out in the forests with your team, right? Back so soon?”

“I actually was also summoned by my uncle,” Jaina replied as they walked down the hall. “He’s requested that I lead a team on a mission.”

Kyp raised a brow at this. “A mission? That’s rare. I’ve driven myself mad trying to stay busy this past year. I was starting to think Master Skywalker would never send the Jedi back out into the field.”

Jaina sighed. “You and me both,” she said. “I only wish this was a simple task. Blow up a pirate’s orbital base or something dangerous like that.”

“Oh?” Kyp replied. “What does he have you doing?”

Jaina hesitantly recounted the main points of her mission. Kuat, the corporations, the Yuuzhan Vong, and her and her team’s job in all of it. She wasn’t sure if Luke wanted her to share the details with anyone else, but Kyp was a Jedi Master and a part of the Council, so he was bound to learn soon anyways. Besides, she was excited to confide in him. Despite their ups and downs, Kyp was always a sort of kindred spirit to Jaina, and she found it easier to talk to him than many of the other older Jedi.

“So we have to find a way to end the tensions before things get out of hand,” Jaina concluded. “Uncle Luke wants the Jedi to be the ones to settle things to show we have worth as guardians and peacekeepers, and to stop the Senate from trying to shove us to the side, or worse.”

Kyp nodded as he listened, his face growing more serious. As they passed a terrace overlooking the mess hall, Kyp looked out at the Jedi students and instructors, eating side by side together. Suddenly, the silence was broken by Kyp cracking a chuckle.

“So, Master Skywalker has finally decided to start sending us on real Jedi missions,” he joked, but there was something distant in his voice. “No more wars, no more battles…now we work to stop them from happening all together.”

“That’s what Jedi are supposed to do,” Jaina said, her response automatic but her voice wavering.

Kyp shot her a glance, his gaze knowing. “And yet, you and I both feel pretty out of place, don’t we?”

Jaina hesitated, not expecting that response. “I’m not saying I want war-”

“But you don’t know who you are without it,” Kyp finished for her, his voice quiet now. “Trust me, I know. From one warrior to another, I know. We’re both excellent fighters, Jaina, we’re star pilots. We thrived in the war, relished in it. Despite the loss, despite the pain…that’s where we shined. Now, I’m beginning to understand why veteran soldiers lose their minds during peacetime.”

Jaina nodded solemnly, understanding him completely. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for a mission like this,” she said. “The war changed us, the Jedi came out different. We’ve expanded our horizons, embraced a grander view of the Force. It should be freeing, but…”

She exhaled sharply and crossed her arms, as if bracing herself against an unseen force. “Instead, I feel like I just got ripped out of hyperspace and dumped into darkspace. And no one gave me a navicomputer.” She glanced at Kyp. “I spent years knowing exactly what I needed to do. Now? I don’t even know if I believe in what I’m being asked to do.”

Kyp studied her, his expression unreadable. “Then what do you believe in, Jaina?”

“That’s just it. I don’t kriffing know.”

Kyp snickered at this, but his eyes remained serious. He looked out to the mess hall again. “And that’s the grand mystery of it all,” he said, more to himself than her.

Suddenly, Kyp gave her a sideways look. “If your uncle is right about the Force, that it’s all-encompassing, and that light and dark are both valid tools to preserve peace, then we should be cut out for this new era, yeah?”

Jaina met his gaze, the understanding unspoken between them. Kyp didn’t need to explain. He had fallen, completely, once before. She had only brushed against that abyss, felt its power thrumming through her veins, and pulled back before it consumed her. But she had felt it, had wielded it, and a part of her had never stopped wondering- was it truly something to fear?

Vergere hadn’t thought so. Neither did Luke nowadays, not entirely. If darkness could be used without corruption, if passion and power weren’t inherently dangerous, then maybe the Jedi had been limiting themselves for generations. Maybe this new understanding of the Force was the key to finally breaking the cycle.

And now, Jaina had a chance to prove it.

“Yeah,” she said, though the word felt heavier than she intended. “That stands to reason.”

Kyp smirked at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked ahead as they continued to walk, fingers tapping idly against his side. “Then that should be good news for us,” he said lightly. “If all our mistakes are just part of the bigger picture, then maybe we weren’t so wrong after all.”

Jaina caught the edge in his voice- the hint of something unresolved. Kyp was good at keeping up his roguish front, at deflecting with wit and charisma. But she’d known him too long not to recognize when something was gnawing at him. And right now, she didn’t need the Force to see through him.

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced.”

Kyp hesitated, as if debating whether to answer. Then, with a small exhale, he glanced at the ground. “It’s just…” He shook his head, giving a self-deprecating chuckle. “If all of this is true, if the Force really does work like that…then why do I still feel like I don’t belong here?”

Jaina frowned. She reached out to the Force and sensed a slow-burning anger deep within Kyp, an anger he was trying to reason into submission. Kyp, despite all his bravado and charm, was a very complicated individual with a very complicated relationship with the Jedi Order. Just when he seemed to be getting onto even ground with his fellow Jedi, this new philosophy had thrown everything back into question. For someone with a history of darkness, Jaina thought, it must burn pretty bad to be told that the system that condemned his actions had been tossed aside.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, grounding both of them. “We’re all still figuring this out, Kyp. Maybe on this mission, I’ll finally see for myself if this path we’re walking is really the right one.”

Kyp nodded, his confidence flowing back to him. Or maybe, Jaina thought, he's just slipping his mask back on. “In that case,” he said, forcing a smirk. “I’ll be very interested to see how it turns out.” He raised a brow. “Have you picked your team yet?”

Jaina smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Kyp, but I’m going to be choosing some Jedi closer to my age.”

He held his hand to his heart. “Ouch. You wound me, Jaina Solo.”

Jaina laughed. “You’ll live,” she teased. Then, with a more genuine smile, she said, “Lowie, Zekk, and Alema have all been with me for at least six months now. We’ve trained together, ate together, slept together, barely leaving each other’s side. Tahiri just got back from Zonama Sekot, and it’s like she never left us. When Tesar’s around, he joins us too.”

Kyp’s humor faded as he studied her. “It’s because of Myrkr, isn’t it?”

Jaina’s smile dropped, replaced by something more guarded, and she nodded. “Yeah, I guess so,” she answered.

For a moment, neither spoke. A flash of pain went through Jaina as she remembered that mission, and the bond the survivors shared. Myrkr had changed them. Not just in obvious ways- scars, memories, friends and family no longer here. It had changed them in the way it bound them together, as if they had been forged in fire into something inseparable. “The meld probably has something to do with it, too,” she went on, trying to keep things light. “Sometimes I swear we’ve become a hive mind.”

Kyp’s eyes widened at this. “Well, as long as you don’t start finishing each other’s sentences, that’ll be alright,” he said, and the two laughed. They continued on, talking and joking as they made their way to the refresher near the dormitories. As they drew close, Kyp grew more serious again.

“Concerning the mission, Jaina,” he said. “I want to warn you to be careful. I’ll be honest, I don’t envy you here.” He stopped following her and turned to look her in the eyes. “On one hand, you have a mob of cred-hungry slimeballs refusing to share their world and resources, and on the other you have a band of refugees seeking work and shelter, trying to make up for their past sins.”

Kyp then sighed and shrugged, pacing as he spoke. “Or, rather, you have a population of war-weary folks trying to rebuild and move on, and they’re being pressured to house a group of the very species that tried to eradicate us from existence, who could very well be planning...” He shook his head, not needing to finish his though. “Either way, I don’t like it.”

“You think they’d really try something?” Jaina asked, frowned.

“I don’t know,” Kyp said, running a hand through his unruly hair. “But I know that the Yuuzhan Vong aren’t one single entity. Surely not all of them have accepted the peace as readily as the likes of Nas Choka. Even if they genuinely want to live peacefully on Kuat, I wouldn’t put it past the Vong to revert back to their old ways if they feel backed into a corner.”

Jaina gave Kyp a look like he had three heads. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” Kyp replied with a humorless chuckle. His eyes were stone. “It’s supposed to make you understand that you have to be careful. Don’t trust anyone, only the Force and your fellow Jedi. Play nice if you want, do your negotiations, but if Master Skywalker is serious about this new philosophy, then use it. Both sides could very well be trying to ruin the other, and the moment you see any spark of war, stamp it out. Prove to the Senate that the Jedi are lightyears more efficient than any kriffing committees, treaties, or anything else.”

Jaina stared back at him, trying not to show any nervousness. “I understand, Kyp,” she said. “I won’t hesitate.”

A moment passed as Kyp seemed to think. Breaking the tension, he smiled and ruffled her hair. “I know you won’t,” he said. “Now, I’ve got to go. Your uncle needs to see me. Hopefully he sends me to put down a warlord or something actually fun.”

Rolling her eyes, Jaina waved goodbye to Kyp and continued on. As soon as she turned away from him, her face dropped, and she quickened her pace toward the refresher.

Kyp was right. Every step of this mission felt like walking into a nexu den blindfolded. She was supposed to trust in the Force, but for the first time in a long while, she wasn't sure if the Force would be there to catch her when she fell.

What in the blazes is Luke sending her into?

***

The door to Luke’s private office slid open, and Kyp stepped in. Simply decorated, dimly lit, it was a peaceful and meditative chamber. Perfect for a peaceful and meditative master, Kyp thought.

He couldn’t see Luke immediately, but he felt him in the Force, and turned the corner to the caf station Luke had installed. He was pouring himself a mug of a dark, hot liquid. Kyp smiled to himself. Luke was famous for his love of hot chocolate, and since the Yuuzhan Vong War, had begun stockpiling the stuff around the academy, and apparently even had a stash on the Millenium Falcon. Kyp eyed the drink, wondering if it was as good as Luke made it out to be.

Kyp bowed to Luke as the Jedi Master blew on the mug. “Master Skywalker, it’s good to see you,” he said.

Luke turned from his drink, smiling in that effortless, unreadable way of his. “Too long, I think. How have you been holding up?”

Kyp exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I’ve walked every square kilometer of Ossus by now. The survey mission for Tionne last week was the highlight of my year.” He smirked wryly. “Not exactly what I expected the life of a Jedi Master to be.”

As Kyp spoke, Luke set his mug down and began adding spices to it. “I understand,” Luke said graciously. “I imagine you haven’t been this stationary in years.” He pulled another mug out of the culinary unit and began to pour some more hot chocolate in it.

“Oh, I’m not thirsty, Master,” Kyp said politely. Luke smiled as he handed Kyp a freshly-spiced mug. “Your feelings betray you,” Luke joked. “I sensed you wanted some. Try it.” Kyp, shaking his head in amusement, blew on the mug as Luke walked to his desk.

“I know this year has been difficult for you,” Luke said as he sat, fingers idly tracing the rim of his mug. “For all of us. Reflection doesn’t come naturally to warriors.”

Kyp raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we are now? Warriors?”

“Not if we can help it,” Luke replied. “That’s the point of all this, Kyp. We spent too long fighting. We needed to step back, to reassess who we are, what we serve. The Force… isn’t what we thought it was. And we can’t afford to be reckless in how we use it.”

Kyp sat across from Luke, sipping his admittedly excellent hot chocolate. “I understand your decision to have us look inward, Master,” he said. “I was against it at first, but I see the wisdom in it now. We learned much during the war- and lost even more. It was time for us to slow down and take stock.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “That said, I believe the Order is more than ready to reassert itself in the galaxy.”

Luke smiled. “I agree,” he said. “We haven’t been idle. When the need was great, we answered the call. You’ve been on a few missions yourself. But now, I think it’s time for the Jedi to step forward again and to play an active role in keeping the peace and serving the Force.” His gaze flickered down to his drink before returning to Kyp, more serious now. “And to put into practice the philosophy I’ve chosen for the Order.”

Kyp’s expression sobered. He nodded, but didn’t quite meet Luke’s eyes. “I understand, Master.”

Luke studied him for a moment. “You’ve been skeptical of this new understanding of the Force, Kyp,” he said, his tone measured. “But if the Force isn’t as simple as light and dark, then maybe we’ve been mistaken in how we view things like passion. Emotion.” He gave Kyp a knowing look. “You, of all people, should see the value in that.”

Kyp sighed. Here we go. He leaned forward, fingers tapping against the side of his mug. “I get what you’re saying. I do. But I still believe the dark side exists, Luke. I’ve felt it. Lived it. And I know what it’s like to lose control. Maybe some of it was me, my own pain and anger... but not all of it. There was something else. Something ancient. It used me.”

Luke studied him, his expression calm but searching. “I don’t deny that Exar Kun manipulated you, Kyp. But he didn’t create your anger- he just showed you how to wield it. That power, that darkness, it wasn’t something foreign that he forced into you. It was already there.”

Kyp’s jaw tightened. “Then maybe that’s exactly why it should be feared. If it’s always there, waiting for the right moment to take hold, maybe there are lines we still shouldn’t cross.”

Luke exhaled, the steam from his mug curling into the air. “Fear can be useful, Kyp. But if you let it dictate your choices, it’s no different from the anger that fueled you back then.”

Kyp scoffed, shaking his head. “So what, I just embrace it? Pretend it’s a tool like any other?”

Luke’s lips quirked in something between a smile and a frown. “No. You acknowledge it. You understand it. And you make sure it serves you, not the other way around.”

Luke felt the flicker of frustration in Kyp through the Force before the younger Jedi caught himself and reined it in. “In my opinion, Master,” Kyp said, bowing his head slightly. “If the Jedi are going to test this new philosophy, we need to be cautious. Vergere was wise, yes, but there’s so much about her we don’t know, may never know. What if we take her teachings to heart, only to realize too late that she’s led us astray?”

Luke nodded, setting his mug down as he stood and moved to the viewport, gazing out at the wilds of Ossus. “I understand your concerns more than you may realize, Kyp,” he said. “And I don’t have all the answers. But we can’t allow fear to stop us from seeking understanding. If the Force is truly more than the divisions we’ve placed on it, then ignoring that truth would be irresponsible. What if we’ve been limiting ourselves, closing off parts of the Force out of fear. What if that fear cost lives? What if it kept us from finding real solutions?” He shook his head. “I don’t know yet. But I think we need to find out.”

Kyp leaned forward, his hands tightening around his mug. “And if we’re wrong?”

Luke exhaled, his expression calm but heavy with thought. “Then I’ll bear that responsibility.” He turned back to Kyp, studying him. “But I’ve spent this past year reflecting, reaching deeper into myself- into my own emotions, my own anger. And for the first time, I feel… whole. I think Vergere was complicated, and maybe not entirely trustworthy. But through her teachings, we found the strength to overcome the Yuuzhan Vong. If we’re willing to embrace that possibility, maybe we can become something more. Do something greater to preserve peace and maintain balance.”

Kyp took a slow sip of his drink, letting Luke’s words settle. He wasn’t sure if he agreed. Not yet. And he knew pressing the issue further would only lead to frustration- for both of them. “I’ll think on it, Master Skywalker,” he said at last, his voice measured. “Was there anything else?”

Luke sat back down and put his hands together. “Yes, actually. As I said, it’s time for the Jedi to return to the galactic playing field. I just assigned Jaina and her team to mediate a conflict between the Kuat corporations and a group of Yuuzhan Vong settlers. It’s a complicated and tense situation, and if the Jedi are successful in it, we will have defused a potential reignition of war and shown the Galactic Alliance we are worthy allies during peacetime.”

"I ran into Jaina on the way here,” Kyp replied. “She seems pretty...excited about it.”

“I see,” Luke said. “I know she’s apprehensive about it, but I have full confidence in her and her team. This will be a pivotal moment for the Jedi.”

“So where does this leave me?” Kyp asked.

Luke sipped his drink, then cleared his throat. “I’d like to ask you to go to Mon Calamari. Kyle’s working undercover there, and I want you to join him. There have been some...concerning rumors surrounding Senator Tholtast Barm of Kuat. If these prove correct, then the situation on Kuat may be even more complex than we thought. The problem is, the Jedi have been approved to mediate the conflict on Kuat.”

“And not to dig up a senator’s dirty laundry,” Kyp finished.

Luke nodded. “Exactly. We must be very careful. If our findings produce results, then I have faith we will be excused for our investigation. If things go poorly, then I’ll have a lot to explain to the Senate.” He leaned forward, setting his mug down. “That’s why I think Kyle needs a second pair of hands, a second Jedi Master to ensure this mission goes according to plan.”

Kyp leaned back in his chair, expression skeptical. “So, I spend a year meditating on Ossus, and when I finally get a real mission, I’m supposed to play spy? Forgive me, Master, but you know that’s not my skill set. Corran was in CorSec. Why not send him?”

Luke’s eyes flickered with amusement. “So you don’t want the mission?”

Kyp hesitated, then straightened. “That’s not what I said. I just want to know why you picked me.”

Luke gave one of his ambiguous smiles. “That’s for you to figure out. Just trust that I believe you’re the right Jedi for this.” He leaned back, folding his hands together. “Kyle will brief you when you get there.”

Kyp’s expression darkened, suspicion creeping in. “So I’m on a need-to-know basis now, Master?”

Luke exhaled through his nose as he met Kyp’s gaze with calm patience. “I’m not keeping anything from you, Kyp,” Luke said evenly. “I just don’t have all the answers. Kyle’s been on Mon Calamari for weeks now, working sources, tracking leads. If I tried to brief you, I’d be giving you outdated or inaccurate intel.”

Kyp folded his arms. “So, I get to play blind until Kyle decides to loop me in?”

“I trust Kyle’s judgment,” Luke replied. “And I trust yours. That’s why I’m sending you.”

Kyp held Luke’s gaze for a long moment, weighing his words, then sighed. “Fine,” he said, standing. “I’ll do the job. Serve the Jedi, serve the Force.” A wry smirk ghosted over his lips. “Thanks for the drink, by the way. Quite good.”

Luke rose and bowed in return. “I wish you the best, Kyp. I’ll inform Kyle of your arrival. Contact him on a private channel once you arrive on Mon Calamari, and he’ll take it from there.” He smiled warmly, studied Kyp for a long moment, then said, “I’m not asking you to ignore your past, Kyp. Or to pretend your mistakes never happened. I’m asking you to understand them. To use them- not let them use you.”

Kyp sighed sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. That’s the trick, isn’t it?”

Luke gave him a small, knowing smile. “It always is. Be careful, Kyp.”

Kyp gave a half-smile as he left. “I will, Master. May the Force be with you.”

“And you, Kyp,” Luke murmured as the door slid shut, his gaze lingering where Kyp had stood.

Chapter Text

The blue and white lines of hyperspace raced past the viewport of Jacen’s X-Wing. A kaleidoscope of lights illuminated the dimly lit cockpit, a mix of the stars whizzing by and the pulsing buttons, radars, and screens surrounding Jacen. The young Jedi had just awoken from a decent enough nap. He exhaled, working out the stiffness in his joints that had accumulated over the past week. It was a long way to the Deep Core, and stopping for fuel every couple of days had prolonged the journey further. The last stop on Prakith had been brief- just enough to refuel, stretch for a bit, then take off again. Now, as Jacen neared the heart of the galaxy, navigation would only become more treacherous. The temptation to slip into Force hibernation was strong, but Jacen resisted. He needed to stay alert.

He had wasted enough time back on Tatooine. He had to wait eight hours milling about in Mos Eisley waiting for a response from Tionne. With the HoloNet still in shambles around the galaxy and the sheer distance, transferring a message from Tatooine to Ossus and back was no quick feat. Eventually, Jacen’s request came through- star charts of the Deep Core, with key coordinates flagged by the Jedi as worth investigating.

Exploration of the Deep Core had been minimal even before the war. It was too dangerous and unstable for even the most daring of star pilots. The star charts uncovered in the lead up to the Battle of Ebaq 9 had reignited interest in mapping its mysteries. The Jedi Order had flagged specific areas with high gravitational wells, unusual orbit patterns, and strange energy signatures- signs that suggest high Force activity.

All in an attempt to locate Tython. The world of legend, the birthplace of the Jedi.

For centuries, it had been little more than a myth, lost to the mystery and treachery of the Deep Core, almost as if consumed by the Force. Palpatine had attempted to locate it, and as far as the Jedi knew, he had failed. Early in the rebuilding of the Order, Luke and Tionne had debated looking for it, but between Imperial warlords and undead Sith Lords, it was seen as a low priority.

Now, Jacen planned to succeed where others had failed.

He had always intended to visit Tython eventually, but after his vision on Tatooine, after seeing his grandfather’s torment, Jacen needed to find it. If light and dark were simply artificial perspectives, was the truth known at the dawn of Jedi? Had it been put in place after millennia of straying and twisting, leading to its destruction?

And, if he did find it, what would he even find? What would be left?

Questions for later, Jacen told himself. For now, he would concentrate on the Force, and on his navicomputer. One wrong move, and he’d be thrown into the core of a star...or worse.

But the first warning wasn’t the navicomputer- it was the Force. A subtle tug, like an unseen current shifting beneath him. His instincts flared even before his display flashed crimson, the words “Gravitic Anomaly Detected” blinking across his console.

Jacen sat up straighter, focus sharpening. The X-Wing’s gravity well detectors pinged in rapid succession, followed immediately by the shrill beep of the realspace reversion alarm. The hyperspace lane had collapsed. Jacen’s astromech droid, a green R8 unit, started buzzing and blipping erratically. Jacen checked the tactical display for translation.

“We need to drop to realspace now, R8,” Jacen said, keeping his grip firm on the controls. “If we wait too long, that gravity well will yank us out on their terms, not ours. Best case, we end up in a rough orbit. Worst case, we slam into whatever’s ahead at lightspeed, and I don’t plan on breaking my neck today.”

R8 beeped a protest.

“Just trust me, R8!” Jacen barked. Calming himself, he opened himself up entirely to the Force. Eyes closed, tuning out the beeping alarms and whining droid, he pictured the massive anomaly ahead of them. Getting closer by the milisecond, Jacen worried not about what it was exactly, only that it was in his way, and he had to either move it, or halt his approach. Considering he wasn’t Master Yoda, he decided on the latter.

Hand tight on the manual override lever, Jacen counted the seconds. He had to get this right. The Deep Core wasn’t like other regions of space. Hyperspace lanes here weren’t stable- they shifted unpredictably, sometimes vanishing entirely. If he waited too long, he risked the lane slamming shut behind him, stranding him in the middle of a gravity well. If he pulled out too early, he could emerge inside an asteroid field- or worse, inside whatever was pulling him in.

No room for error.

He gripped the override lever, steadying his breath. One... two... now!

Jacen pulled the manual override, and his X-Wing lurched out of hyperspace. The star lines returned to normal, and Jacen’s eyes adjusted to the view in front of him. Something massive was a thousand kilometers ahead or so. It was dark, like a massive oblong smudge on the panorama of the starfield. Jacen checked the tactical display. It was a kilometer long. He frowned. It didn’t look like an asteroid, and it’s too small to be a planetoid. Could it be...?

R8 warbled uneasily. A damage report scrolled across the screen- inertial dampeners weakened from the sudden reversion. Jacen ignored it, his gaze remaining locked ahead. He reached out in the Force. No life signs. He checked the comm display. No transmissions. Just a vast, looming silence. His hair stood on end. He tightened his crash webbing and eased forward on the throttle, sublight engines kicking into gear and guiding the X-wing toward the void ahead.

As Jacen approached, an icy chill crawled up his spine. At first, he thought he might’ve accidentally hit the temperature control when he reverted into realspace. But then he recognized the sensation. It was the Force. A presence- distant, faint, and dark, creeped into his mind. Like the lingering whisper of something ancient, carried across millennia. Jacen tensed up, checking his displays and scanners for answers.

Eventually, the tactical display detected a faint gravitational pull coming from the object. Jacen frowned. A kilometer-sized object wasn’t large enough to create a detectable gravitational pull. Yet, there it was, drawing him in ever so slightly, forcing him to adjust his trajectory. As the X-Wing drew nearer, and Jacen flicked on the forward floodlights, his suspicions were confirmed. Before him, a massive black monolith looming in the vacuum of space, was an ancient derelict ship.

Jacen sucked in air. It was unlike any ship he had seen before. It must’ve been hundreds, thousands of years old. It hung in space like a skeletal giant, its jagged spires jutting out in unnatural arcs of obsidian metal. With the organic curvature of its hull, the blade-like fins protruding from its sides, it looked more like a predatory beast frozen in time than a starship. Scars from ancient plasma fire marred its surface, the burns faded but still visible. As Jacen guided his X-Wing along its length, he caught a glimpse of the aft reactor cores, pulsing dimly with a deep, blood-red glow.

Jacen exhaled slowly. The ship still had power? Is that possible?

Jacen had heard of dead ships that had retained power for decades, maybe more, but this ship had to be at least a thousand years old. It was a stretch, Jacen reasoned, but not impossible. Emergency reactors, ancient maintenance droids, maybe even solar generators could keep the ship in some state of operation.

R8 warbled nervously.

“Yeah, I see it,” Jacen muttered, adjusting his course.

As he passed along the port side of the ship, Jacen noticed spherical, bulbous orbs fixed on the hull. After a moment, it clicked. Jacen’s fingers tightened instinctively around the control stick.

He suddenly understood why the ship was maintaining a weak gravitational pull, and why he was having to occasionally fight his ship’s controls to keep from falling into orbit. It was some kind of interdictor cruiser. One that had been capable of forcing ships out of hyperspace at will. In its days of use, it did so with its array of gravity well projectors. Now, it did so simply by floating in the middle of the erratically shifting hyperspace lanes. Either way, it did the job.

Jacen blinked as he studied the ship in awe. What was it doing here? And how long had it been waiting?

A thought struck him.

“R8, scan the ship for any operational terminals or active transmissions. Boost scanning signal by 40%.”

As R8 beeped a reply, Jacen let the control stick go and allowed the ship to float in orbit of the interdictor. His sublight engines hummed as R8 cut power to them to boost the scanning signal. Jacen could afford to lose mobility for a moment if it meant maybe picking up on something, anything, left over from this ancient ship.

After a moment, R8 chirped and a translation flickered onto the comm console. “You found a terminal?” Jacen asked, his excitement audible. “Patch in and see what you can salvage.”

As R8 began to remotely link with the ancient system, Jacen let his gaze drift back to the wreck. He closed his eyes and stretched out with the Force, weaving his senses through the shattered hull, past the charred bulkheads, and into the remains of the command deck.

A cold dread settled into his chest.

The deeper Jacen probed, the stronger it became. His body felt frigid. Jacen was sure if he opened his eyes, he’d be able to see his breath. The ship was shrouded in darkness, but it still hummed, groaned with hatred and pain. His breath hitched as the sensation built, grasping at him like monstrous tendrils.

Jacen brought his perceptions back into the cockpit as R8 displayed an array of data on the comm console. Most of it was corrupt, incomplete, time and damage having weathered them down to jumbled characters and static. Then, R8 highlighted two specific data fragments that seemed mostly accessible. Jacen opened up the first, and a crackled, choppy voice began to play through the headset inside of Jacen’s helmet.

“This is...Deadfire...withdraw from...leaking hyperdrive...Jedi....stronger than expected.”

The message began to repeat. Jacen shuddered. Whoever this voice belonged to, they had been dead for centuries, maybe millennia. Their warning had gone unheard, their plea for aid lost to time.

Jacen’s fingers hovered over the controls as his mind pieced the puzzle together. A Sith ship. A relic of one of the ancient Sith Wars, fought in the days when Jedi and Sith waged open battle across the stars. This ship had fled from Jedi forces. And now, after untold centuries drifting in the void, it had pulled him out of hyperspace.

A strange mix of unease and anticipation curled in Jacen’s gut as he selected the second data fragment. His breath hitched as unfamiliar symbols and mismatched system logs flickered onto the screen. The layout was archaic, its design almost alien. Certain systems were named differently, others were outright missing- but there was no mistaking what he was looking at.

A navigation map.

Not just any map. A record of the ship’s final hyperspace jumps.

Jacen’s mouth went dry. What if, just maybe, this ship came from Tython? His fingers moving faster than his mind, Jacen had pulled up Tionne’s star charts onto his navicomputer and began to dart his eyes between the modern charts and the archaic map. The symbols and names didn’t quite match, but there had to be an overlap.

“R8,” Jacen said, his voice tight with excitement, “cross-reference the charts with this map. Filter out anything that doesn’t appear on both.”

R8 beeped in acknowledgment and began running the calculations, the whir of the droid’s processor filling the cockpit.

The navicomputer flickered as systems aligned, clashed, filtered, recalibrated. A new map formed, piece by piece. A system here. A planet there. Still nothing concrete.

Then- a single set of coordinates appeared.

Jacen stared. His lips slowly curled into a smile.

Chapter Text

Machinery whirred and hissed as the massive durasteel doors unsealed and rose, revealing a long corridor, lit with sickly yellow glowrods in a symmetrical pattern along the guardrails. Stepping out onto the walkway, three workers, dressed in industrial work suits and visored helmets, carefully walked in single file towards the end of the corridor.

In the lead, Dama Kees glanced down at her datapad, tightening her frown at the most recent alert from the tibanna compression chamber. Her eyes darted from the datapad to a small display fastened to her wrist, then back again.

“This makes no sense,” she said, quite matter-of-factly. “The biotech sensor reports no malfunctions or pressure fluctuations.”

“Seems to me that Vong scrap is finally on the fritz,” said Loday Id, the worker behind her. An older worker, though his Aqualish physiology didn’t quite show it, Loday stretched a knot out of his bicep as he grumbled something else about what he’s going to do if he sees another tentacle on his machines.

“Ever since the settlers lent us their biotech,” said Dama. “KDY has experienced a 32.564% decline in system error and machine malfunction. Say what you want about them, but their tech works.”

“Bah,” grunted Loday. “I suppose it’s our machinery that’s inadequate, then?”

“That’s enough, you two,” said Hugo Aran, the foreman tailing them, a stern but light tone in his voice. “We’ll find out what’s going on when we get in there, then we’ll see who was right.”

Loday mumbled a response, but Dama was absorbed in her datapad again, somehow not tripping over a cable or banging her head on an outcropped pipe on the walk to the end of the hall. The resident biotech expert at Kuat Drive Yards Tibanna Processing Plant 7, Dama had spent the last three months learning all she could about the Yuuzhan Vong biotech from the shapers at the settlers’ camp. Now that the war was over and she wasn’t living in fear of being killed by them, she could finally appreciate the Vong’s biotech for what it was: endlessly fascinating and potentially revolutionary if properly combined with synthetic technology.

At the end of the hallway, the trio stopped at the next set of durasteel doors blocking their way. A hiss of gas being spurted from some distant pipe filled the air as Hugo shuffled to the front of the line, presented his key card to the small scanner on the wall, and stepped back as the doors rose.

The three workers entered the compression chamber, a site very familiar to them by now. Loday had worked for KDY for decades, and although both Hugo and Dama were recent hires since the planet got back on its feet after the war ended, they had plenty of time to get accustomed to performing maintenance and diagnostics on the facility’s machinery. One major incident, especially in the wake of this trouble with the Vong settlers, and they’d all be out on the street.

The chamber was one of many, each positioned above the facility’s vast tibanna gas reservoirs. These chambers housed an array of machinery designed to process and refine tibanna gas imported from Bespin, preparing it for use in hyperdrives, turbolasers, and other high-energy systems.

The process began at the refinement vats, large rotund structures lining the chamber’s far-left side. Here, the gas was decontaminated and purified, ensuring that no foreign particles interfered with its volatile properties. From there, the tibanna flowed through a network of reinforced conduits into the compression chambers, massive pressurization units that gave the larger room its name. These chambers heated and compressed the gas, priming it for storage and transport. Finally, the concentrated tibanna was injected into magnetically sealed canisters, their volatile contents stabilized just enough for shipment. These canisters were then packed into crates for distribution across the galaxy.

Even with extensive safety measures, working in a tibanna processing facility remained an inherently dangerous job- something Dama was well aware of. Fortunately, KDY had implemented multiple precautions to balance both safety and efficiency.

The first safeguard was a sophisticated coolant system integrated into every step of the process. Vents expelled excess heat, while coolant-fed conduits ran along the compressors, ensuring that the tibanna remained at precisely regulated temperatures, only being heated when necessary and never beyond safe thresholds.

The second, and more controversial, safety measure came in the form of Yuuzhan Vong biotech, begrudgingly incorporated into the facility’s design at the behest of the recently settled Vong refugees. As a gesture of acceptance, and out of the need for rapid production, KDY had accepted the Vong shapers aid in bioengineering organic systems to expedite production. The most visible example of this was the zorak-veins, dark blue, pulsing organic conduits fused into the chamber’s walls, pipes, and ceiling. Designed to regulate pressure within the compression chambers, these bioengineered vascular networks could expand and contract, absorbing or releasing excess tibanna gas. Remarkably, the zorak-veins relied on tibanna as a life-sustaining resource, ensuring an almost symbiotic relationship between the biotech and the facility’s infrastructure.

Another Vong addition hung from the ceiling and coiled around various machines- the kullas. These violet, semi-transparent tendrils shimmered with a moist, gel-like substance, their surfaces rippling faintly as they absorbed excess heat. Functioning as organic cooling coils, the kullas complemented the synthetic coolant system, maintaining stable operating temperatures throughout the chamber. The gel they secreted not only dissipated heat efficiently but also nourished the biotech itself, ensuring the tendrils remained active and responsive. Like the zorak-veins, the kullas pulsed with an organic rhythm, though their movements were more subtle, almost imperceptible.

They set to work immediately. Dama headed towards the zorak-veins for observation. Hugo headed towards a console positioned on the righthand side to run some diagnostics. Loday, wiping sweat from his brow, bent down to manually adjust a heat vent and curse the state of things.

Dama’s eyes scanned the zorak-veins as they pulsed, expanding and contracting as if they were taking in oxygen, all around the chamber. She glanced down at her biotech sensor- no irregularities. As she looked back up, however, something caught Dama’s eye. In the dim, sallow light of the chamber, it was hard to look for chromatic oddities, but Dama swore something was off. Activating her glowrod, she immediately realized the problem. The zorak-veins, normally a dark shade of blue, had paled to borderline sickly turquoise.

“That can’t be good,” she muttered to herself.

Meanwhile, Hugo’s brow furrowed as he checked the readouts on the console, before his eyes began to widen with alarm. “Dama, how are those zorak-veins looking?”

“Not ideal,” she replied, not taking her eyes off her biotech sensor as she sped her way through a diagnostic.

“Well, that must explain why these pressure readouts are off the charts,” Hugo said, shaking his head in disbelief. “See if you can identify the problem.”

“They’re offcolored, sir,” Dama replied as she attempted to make contact with the veins through her sensor. “It’s like they’re...sick.”

Loday glanced up from his work, a stern look on his face. Before he could rebuke Dama for trusting the biotech in the first place, a low groan spread through the floor and into the walls of the chamber, like a beast waking up from hibernation.

“I don’t like that sound,” Loday grumbled, trying to keep a measure of cold composure about him.

“Neither do I,” said Dama, looking up at the zorak-veins. She could see now that their pulsing, usually a rhythmic up-and-down, was erratic, scattered. She swallowed hard, a cool sweat creeping onto her forehead.

Suddenly, the crew was basked in a red light as a warning sign came on overhead.

"PRESSURE INSTABILITY DETECTED”

Hugo immediately took charge. “Dama, override the regulator! Loday, check the coolant lines!”

Dama set to work, typing commands into her sensor, attempting to take manual control of the pressure regulation. Her eyes darted around the display, unable to process what she was seeing. “I don’t get it,” she said. “It’s not responding to any of my commands. It’s like it’s operating on it’s own...”

Loday shuffled over to a panel near one of the major conduits and pulled out his hydrospanner, using it as a makeshift prybar to tear off a panel, revealing coolant tubes. His breath hitched. “They’re empty,” he exclaimed. Looking up, he saw the kullas in the process of curling upwards, as if they were hoarding all the coolant gel to themselves.

The trio suddenly began to realize how hot the room had become. Each of them, quickly becoming drenched in sweat, furiously tried to override their respective components and take control of a quickly deteriorating situation. The compressors began to whine as an alarm started to buzz. Dama looked back at the zorak-veins. They had contracted to an impossible tightness, almost squeezing through the durasteel.

Hugo pointed a finger at Dama. “Turn the emergency valve!”

Taking a second to register his command, Dama blinked rapidly before turning to the red lever in the center of the chamber. She scrambled over to it, gripped it, and pulled as hard as she could.

It wouldn’t budge.

Looking down, Dama could see one of the zorak-veins, squeezed tightly into the durasteel around the lever, effectively cutting off its circulation.

“It...it won’t turn!” she called back to Hugo. “The veins won’t let it. It’s like it’s trying to take control of things itself.”

“Sithspit!” Hugo cursed, running his hand through his hair. He had to think of something, fast. This was his first real emergency, his first time having to truly take charge as a senior foreman. What was he to do?

Dama went back to work on her biotech sensor, trying, pleading, to find something that could halt this growing disaster. Suddenly, her biotech scanner flickered and froze. No response. No override. It was like the system had...locked her out. With a cry, Dama ripped off her sensor and threw it to the ground.

Suddenly, a mournful, groaning sound ripped through the ceiling. The trio all paused their panic and looked above. The pipes overhead bulged like an overfilled lung, straining against their mounts. A faint, acrid scent filled the chamber as pressurized tibanna gas vented from microscopic fractures in the zorak-veins. Normally, the organic conduits would regulate pressure flawlessly, but now, something had changed. Something was wrong. The gas had become unstable. And then, from across the room- sparks.

Loday cried out. The two others turned to his position, where he was holding his face, groaning in pain. Near him, they saw, and heard, one of the conduits sizzling, sparking with electricity. It had ruptured.

Suddenly, Hugo knew what to do. He didn’t think of it, not really. It was as if his body had reverted back to pure instinct and protocol, like he was back in training. He darted to the other side of the console and scanned his keycard. A display appeared, full of flashing lights and warning messages. Closing an emergency blast door would trigger a facility-wide emergency and alert the highest echelons of KDY seniority. Good, Hugo thought. Maybe they’ll think twice about taking handouts from filthy Vong next time.

Before he slammed his hand down on the activation key, Hugo looked up at his two workers. Dama was staring, mouth agape, at the building pressure in the pipes, frozen in fear. Loday was holding his injured face, trying desperately to see and keep working. A lump formed in Hugo’s throat. If he had more time, he’d have seriously debated sacrificing his two workers, and himself, without consulting them more. But he hadn’t time for that. Either he seal this door, or the entire facility might explode in a fire of ignited tibanna.

Reminding himself of his duty, Hugo closed his eyes and slammed the activation key. A massive, bulky durasteel wall suddenly fell behind them, hammering into the floor and hissing as it magnetically sealed shut. Not even a Death Star laser could break us out, Hugo thought amusingly.

The hiss, cry, and cracking of the pipes brought him back to his situation. The pipes overhead burst, spewing tibanna gas into the chamber. The only thing Hugo could shout as it made contact with the sparking conduit was,

“Get ba-”

***

The door slid open, albeit with a protesting squeak, and Kyp Durron sauntered into Hask’s Diner. A dingy place that likely wasn’t up to code, the scent of spiced Mon Cal seafood and recycled air lingered in the dining room. A grumpy-looking Volpai scooted past a table of mechanics, balancing four stacked plates of food in his four arms.

The pedestrian who gave Kyp directions swore to Borleias and back that this was the best restaurant in Mon Calamari City. I’d hate to see the worst, Kyp thought as he walked in, scanning the stained barstools and not-so-private booths for Kyle. This was where he had said to meet him when Kyp arrived in-system, but the private comm message hadn’t said what he’d be wearing or what he’d be looking like. Given that Kyle was famous for being the best undercover operative in the Jedi Order, Kyp half-expected him to be wearing the face of a Bith or something to that effect.

Thankfully, a prod in the Force saved Kyp the trouble of pulling on every alien’s face to see if it was a mask or not. Glancing to the right, Kyp saw a human sitting in the corner booth, hooded and hunched. One of just a few, Kyp could see. Hask’s Diner was positioned in the Vong Corner, as locals called it. Not because of it’s high population of Vong, thankfully, but due to it being used as a sort of refugee camp-turned residential district for displaced Coruscanti and other New Republic citizens who fled the Yuuzhan Vong during the war. Many elected to stay on Mon Calamari, and now the planet’s surface capital had a noticeably higher concentration of non-aquatic species living here.

As Kyp walked to the booth, he was stopped by a redheaded waitress, wearing a once-white apron and nursing a cigarra in her mouth.

“You want some caf, handsome?” she asked, her gravelly voice cutting through the air like a rattling motivator.

“Uh, sure,” Kyp said, nodding to what he assumed was Kyle in the corner. “Bring it over there.”

With a grunt and a quick up-and-down look, the waitress took off to clean up a spill and hopefully make Kyp his caf. Finally, the Jedi approached the hooded human. Closer inspection proved that this was indeed Kyle. The older Jedi’s silver-kissed chestnut beard peered through the hood. Kyp could see he was also wearing some gruff street clothes, not becoming of a Jedi Master, but definitely becoming of Kyle Katarn.

Kyle gave Kyp a look like a disappointed father. “Nice robes, Durron.”

Kyp opened his mouth to say something, then glanced down. His dark Jedi robes, polished boots, and visible lightsaber were certainly a stark contrast to Kyle’s garb. He understood the sentiment, and dropped down into the booth.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how discreet we were being. It's not like Luke told me much,” he said, tapping the table with a finger. “Besides, we’re Jedi, and this isn’t the Rebellion anymore. I don’t understand why we need to hide our presence.”

Kyle snickered and sipped his caf. “Emperor’s black bones, kid, you really are out of your element.”

Kyp spread his hands and looked defensive. “I didn’t ask for this, Kyle.”

Kyle’s face grew more studious and he nodded. “That’s right, you didn’t. But don’t worry, we’ll make an operative out of you, yet. I’ve got some spare clothes back at my safehouse.” He sipped his drink and leaned back. “Lesson one: your appearance is half the battle. If you look like just another street urchin, you’ll quite literally double your options.”

Kyp shrugged. “Fine, that makes sense. Now, can you please tell me what we’re doing here? Aren’t we supposed to be investigating-”

A firm jab in the Force let Kyp know how careful he needs to be with his words. “Right, sorry,” he muttered. “What can you tell me?”

“Well, right now,” Kyle said, taking a bite of his terrafin loin. “I’m about to meet a contact. I’ve bumped into him once or twice. He’s a real piece of work, but he’s got intel on some suppliers that my digging has linked to our guy. Weapons dealers.”

Kyp raised an eyebrow. “Weapons dealers? Why would he be making deals with them?”

Kyle smirked and his eyes glinted. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Their conversation temporarily halted while the waitress dropped off Kyp’s mug of caf. Kyp asked for extra sugar and ordered the Hutt platter, and the waitress darted off without another word.

“You might not wanna eat so much,” Kyle said. “Things might get exciting.”

“You’re expecting trouble?” Kyp asked, stirring a few lumps of sugar into his caf.

“I always expect trouble,” Kyle grinned. “But yeah, this guy, like I said, isn’t too trustworthy. He’s been laying low for decades, no one really knows what he’s been up to. He’s only meeting with me ‘cause I promised him immunity with the Mon Cal Security Force.”

“You can do that?” Kyp raised a brow.

“Sure, if I pull the right strings,” Kyle leaned in. “But I didn’t say anything about GA Security. And I’ll make sure to comm them the moment I can if this nerfherder thinks about pulling a fast one on us.”

“So, where do I stand in all this?” Kyp asked.

“That's simple,” Kyle said, finishing his plate of food. “You’re the backup. If he brings friends with him, or just tries to bolt, you make sure he doesn’t get too far. I’m not as spry as I used to be, kid.”

“Please, Jedi Masters don’t slow down until they’re dead,” Kyp said, waving a hand. “But if you’re that worried about pulling a muscle chasing some alley thug, then I’ll oblige.”

“Good,” Kyle said, nodding to the door. “Because he’s walking in right now.”

Kyp fought the urge to turn around, instead reaching out with the Force and sensing a humanoid entering the diner. He couldn’t get much of a read on his emotions, besides suspicion. That makes three of us, Kyp thought.

“Here, sit next to me,” Kyle muttered, his eyes fixed on their guest. Kyp obeyed, shifting his caf mug across the table and moving to sit by the fellow master.

Approaching the pair was a man around Kyle’s age, maybe a little older. He had medium length hair, mostly grey, and a rough stubble. He wore a weathered leather jacket, with a Corellian blaster at his belt. Peaking out of his right sleeve, Kyp could notice what seemed to be some sort of cybernetic brace fixed onto his forearm and wrist.

Kyle smiled cordially and gestured to the seat across from him. “Hello, old timer. Why don’t you take a seat?”

The older man snickered, but his eyes stayed focused on Kyle as he sat. “Don’t tell me you’re treating me to breakfast, Katarn.”

Kyle shook his head. “Afraid the GA doesn’t give us the budget to treat friends to hearty meals anymore.”

“That’s what we are?” The man raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Kyp. “I thought you were incognito.”

“I am,” Kyle said, then thumbed towards Kyp. “This weirdo followed me in, insists he’s a Jedi Master. I’m just letting him have his moment before I call security.”

Kyp looked at Kyle, mouth agape. What’s he doing?

The man stared at Kyle for a moment, stonefaced, before his facade cracked and he laughed. “You sure are something, Katarn. You aren’t like those other holier-than-thou monks of yours, like that Skywalker.” His face grew serious again. “Still, let’s get this over with. You comm Mon Cal Security and tell them to let me offworld, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“You’ll tell us now, then we’ll deal with that,” Kyp retorted, his jaw tight.

The man glared lasers at Kyp. “That wasn’t the deal.”

Kyle nudged Kyp in the Force. “You’re right. Forgive Master Durron, he quite literally just got here.” He held up a datapad he had concealed in a side pocket. “Don’t worry, Dash. I’ve already talked with them. You have my word you won’t have any trouble flying out of here.”

Kyp’s eyes widened. Dash? As in Dash Rendar? The name struck him immediately. Jaina had mentioned him once. He was the cocky smuggler who tangled with the Empire and played a role in the ODT operation during the war. But Kyp hadn’t expected to ever see him in the flesh. Dash Rendar had been little more than a ghost since his showdown with Xizor back at the height of the Galactic Civil War. How was he still around? And more importantly- what had he been up to all these years?

Dash studied Kyp for a moment, then Kyle, then nodded. “Alright, fine.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “I’ve been on Senator Barm’s payroll for a few months now. Got contacted about this job, smuggling weapons from Adumar to Kuat, making a few pitstops here on Mon Calamari to meet with the higher ups and such. It’s been good money.”

Dash suddenly darted his eyes around, as if checking to see if anyone was watching. “But I’m ready to move on. Things are heating up on Kuat with those Vong settlers, and Senator Barm’s been railing the Jedi for some time. I’ve been around a while, and I can see the course being plotted. I didn’t sign up to tick off the GA. I’m trying to lay low for the rest of my years.” He leaned back, relaxing now that he’s seemingly gotten the bulk off his chest.

Kyle nodded at the information. Kyp, meanwhile, reached out with the Force, getting a sense at Dash’s intentions, his truthfulness. He seemed genuine. He even seemed a little...frightened? Maybe it was nerves. The smuggler’s willpower was pretty solid, Kyp found him a little tough to read.

“Why is Senator Barm sending weapons to Kuat?” Kyle pressed.

Dash spread his hands. “Isn’t it obvious? He's outfitting some kind of army. Probably a private militia, separate or in addition to Kuat Security Force. KDY runs the planet, my money’s on them being involved.”

Kyle nodded, running his tongue over his teeth in thought.

“How are they getting past inspections?” Kyp asked. “Adumar, Mon Calamari, Kuat, those are all high-profile planets. Mon Cal especially has zero tolerance for smugglers.”

“Trust me, I know,” Dash snorted. “We disguise them as industrial equipment. The weapons are broke down to their base components. Scans ring them up as a bunch of durasteel, tibanna, kyber, nothing out of the ordinary for Kuat.”

“Where do you meet at on Mon Cal?” Kyle asked. “And when’s the next shipment arriving?”

Dash hesitated, as if he was deciding on whether he should say more.

Kyp reached out with the Force, trying to incite Dash to answer. “You will tell us,” he ordered.

Dash looked Kyp straight in the pupils, his mouth tight and brow low. “Keep your mind tricks to yourself, Jedi. I’ll tell you. I just ain’t gonna stick my neck out more unless I get some...insurance.”

Kyp scoffed in disbelief. “Really? We promise you immunity and now-”

“Relax, Kyp,” Kyle raised a hand. With his other hand, he pulled out a bag of credits. He slid them over the table. ”Here. Now, where and when?”

Sitting at the bar, on the far side of the diner, a Rodian was eating a modest meal alone. He was inconspicuous in every sense of the word, and Kyp had paid him no mind when he entered besides being one of the many patrons of the restaurant. That changed when a pang of danger sense shot through the two Jedi.

With a flash, Kyp’s purple lightsaber sprang out from under the table and deflected a crimson blaster bolt, one that was on course to roast the back of Dash’s head. Kyp flipped the table and set it along the walkway with the Force, using it as makeshift cover from the next few blaster shots. The Jedi sprang up, lightsaber high, glaring at the now armed Rodian.

Meanwhile, Kyle had rolled past Kyp and dove behind the bar, hoping to flank the attacker. Dash, meanwhile, had ducked under the booth and drawn his sizable hand blaster, returning fire at the Rodian.

“Watch your fire!” Kyle yelled. The patrons of the diner, while quickly fleeing the restaurant, were still very much in the way of any clear shot. He deflected a few blaster bolts, making sure to knock them up into the ceiling.

“Vape this!” Dash cried. “You owe me, Katarn!” With that, the old smuggler launched himself through the viewport adjacent to him, landing on the city street as he made his escape.

“He’s getting away!” Kyp yelled, shuffling towards the open viewport.

“Forget him!” Kyle said. “Let’s bag this guy!”

Kyp swore to himself, then focused back on the Rodian, who’d been firing steadily at the two Jedi from behind the other end of the bar. The last few patrons of the restaurant were beginning to flee out the door.

“I’m moving up!” Kyp called.

“Wait, Kyp!” Kyle replied. “Wait for the civilians to-”

Kyp didn’t wait. With the Force, he shoved the table forward, an ugly screech crying through the air as it skidded to the other side of the restaurant. It smashed into another table, causing plates and cups to fly everywhere, temporarily distracting the Rodian. Kyp dashed forward with a Force-imbued run. However, right as he turned the corner to face the Rodian, he heard the familiar beeping of a thermal detonator. Kyp looked down at his feet to see the small sphere of destruction rolling towards him.

Acting on instinct, Kyp kicked the Rodian in the head, knocking the green alien back. At the same time, he reached out with the Force and launched the thermal detonator into the now-empty kitchen.

“Cover!” Kyp cried, and the two Jedi ducked under the bar. An explosion shook the diner, and smoke billowed out from the window to the kitchen. The Jedi didn’t need to see what was happening in the meantime- they could sense their target fleeing, and Kyle could sense his fear. The Rodian was out the diner and heading down the street.

“Don’t lose sight of him,” Kyle ordered. “But don’t run ahead!”

Kyp didn’t answer. He dove out of the shattered viewport Dash had thrown himself through earlier, rolled with agile grace, and locked in on the Rodian. The alien was pushing through a crowd of frightened and confused pedestrians. Kyp noticed a scaleable building to the lefthand side of the street, one that began a decent series of similarly sized buildings. As Kyp ran towards the building, Kyle came out of the diner and began to run towards the Rodian in the crowd.

Kyp Force-leaped to the top of the building, his boots slamming onto the rooftop, the duracrete groaning beneath him. He barely broke stride, sprinting toward the edge with the speed of a swoop bike. Below, the Rodian pushed through a sea of startled civilians, knocking over a vendor’s cart of steaming noodles. Kyp saw his chance- the buildings ahead formed a staggered path, a perfect route for an aerial pursuit. He gathered the Force in his muscles and leaped, soaring across the gap. His foot clipped the ledge, sending a spray of pebbled stone tumbling into the abyss below.

Meanwhile, Kyle, on the ground and lightsaber deactivated, moved like a shadow, weaving through the shifting mass of pedestrians with practiced ease. He let the crowd carry him forward, slipping between clusters of panicked shoppers and workers. The Rodian was close now, his green skin flashing between bodies as he pushed toward an alleyway.

Wishing he had gotten Kyp’s personal comm channel, Kyle sent an impression of an alley to Kyp through the Force. He got an acknowledgement in turn. Hope he knows which alleyway, Kyle thought.

Kyp, having received Kyle’s message, ran to the edge of the building he was on and looked down. He could see a green figure ducking into the alley beneath him. Gotcha, he thought.

Just as Kyp prepared to drop down onto his target, he felt a warning in the Force- a jab in his gut. Kyp could only twist in midair to dodge the incoming pair of blaster bolts, barely missing getting struck right in the torso. Kyp caught a jutting-out sign as he fell, wrapping his legs around the neon display and reigniting his lightsaber to deflect the next bolt.

The Rodian, meanwhile, whipped around and bolted further down the alley.

Kyle, still shuffling through the crowd towards the alley, could see Kyp dangling from the sign, lightsaber in hand.

Kyp felt Kyle prod him in the Force, and he turned to see the older man finally break through the crowd and reach the entrance to the alley.

“Sniper!” Kyp called. “About two buildings away, 2 o’clock!” With that, Kyp summoned the Force and swung himself up, flipping through the air and landing on the roof of the next building. He could see the sniper- a figure in the window of a four story building. Kyp growled in frustration- the threat wasn’t the Rodian now, it was whoever was covering his escape. He could sense the Rodian still, but just barely.

“I’ll go after our guy!” Kyle called. “Take care of him!”

"No,” Kyp said to himself. The sniper had the advantage, hidden and entrenched. But the Rodian, the runner, was their best lead. If he got away, they might lose the whole trail. He deflected another bolt, reached out with the Force, and yanked a neon sign from its hinges, hurling it at the sniper’s window before launching himself after the fugitive.

He didn’t even check to see if his throw hit- Kyp was already launching himself to the next building, pushing himself to catch up with the Rodian.

Kyle, meanwhile, was navigating the dimly lit, greyish blue alleyways of Mon Calamari City, trying to keep his Force-senses focused on their target. It was harder than it seemed- the Rodian knew these alleys much better than he did, and he was fast. Really fast. Kyle took a wrong turn here and there, but whenever he started to get confused, he’d rely on the lightning-quick feeling of Kyp Durron catapulting himself across the rooftops. Kyle cursed himself for getting assigned such a reckless Jedi. Even if he catches him, Kyle thought as he darted through the alley. This guy’s gotta learn to listen.

Kyp, his stamina starting to wane, finally came to a drop-off point. He was overlooking a catwalk, connecting two of the massive platforms holding Mon Calamari City above the mighty ocean covering nearly all of the planet. The ocean wind gusted hard, blowing his messy hair back and carrying the scent of salted fish with it.

The catwalk, and the area as a whole, seemed to be some sort of industrial spot, with the bridge serving as easy access to the other district for maintenance crew to come and go between the two. The Rodian, Kyp was happy to see, was standing at the precipice of the catwalk, eyeing the alleyway behind him. Emerging from the shadows, Kyle walked forward, cool as ice, lightsaber in hand but not activated.

“Come on, buddy,” Kyle said, gesturing for the Rodian to come forward. “The gig’s up. We just wanna talk.”

“I have nothing to say to Jedi poodoo!” the Rodian barked, stepping closer to the metal overpass. “Come closer, and I’ll make you scream!”

Kyle raised his hands. “Easy, now. Don’t do anything you’re gonna regret later,” he said calmly.

More than you already have, Kyp thought, eyeing the catwalk. It was a tight squeeze, but he thought he had enough fuel in the chamber for a big leap onto it. Trouble was, if his aim was just a little off, he’d be swimming with the fishes.

There was no time. Summoning the Force within him, Kyp took a few steps back, before sprinting forward and diving through the air, his mind affixed on the catwalk. With a few flips, Kyp kept his momentum going, reaching the distance needed, before stretching his body out for a safe landing. He came down onto the center of the catwalk, rolling to a stop. Only, he kept moving- the structure was groaning and shifting. Kyp hadn’t been able to see from his vantage point that this catwalk was old. Really old. Trying to stand, Kyp staggered and grabbed onto a railing as the catwalk began to careen and buck, preparing to collapse on itself.

The Rodian, having had stepped fully onto the catwalk by now, was also staggering and tumbling. He looked back to Kyp, his eyes wide. Raising his blaster, the Rodian fired off a few shots, but they went high and wide, the crumbling bridge throwing off his aim. Kyp, grasping onto the railing, prepared to dash forward tackle the Rodian, hoping his momentum would launch them both back onto sturdy ground.

But it was too late. The catwalk cried and bent, and gravity did the rest. Kyle called out to Kyp and ran towards the edge, but he could only watch as the Jedi and Rodian fell.

As the metal bridge cracked and bent, Kyp latched onto a sturdy piece of the platform and sucked in air. He felt the impact of the cold water, and his entire body locked up as he was submerged in the salty liquid.

It didn’t last long. The metal platform bobbed back up, and Kyp found himself holding on for dear life as he floated in the ocean. He looked up to where Kyle was, and saw him looking down...at the Rodian! He had been close enough to the city platform to reach out and grab onto the ledge, and he was dangling over the edge.

Kyle knelt down, hand extended to the Rodian. “Grab my hand!” he called down to him.

The Rodian grunted and struggled, trying to keep his grip on the ledge. He refused to comply, he barely even looked up at Kyle. He kept glancing to his right. Losing patience, Kyle contemplated grabbing the Rodian with the Force and heaving him up. But, he would rather try and establish a level of rapport with the guy if he could.

Meanwhile, Kyp had pulled himself up on the metal platform, and was very carefully standing, eyeing the situation above. If he could push his body just a little more, he might be able to leap back up there.

Suddenly, Kyp’s thoughts were interrupted by a distant whirring. The hum of engines, Kyp soon realized. Looking to his right, Kyp saw, speeding towards them, an open-air speeder.

And it wasn’t slowing down.

Kyp nudged Kyle with the Force, and the older Jedi looked to see the speeder coming up on them.

“Until next time, Jedi,” the Rodian sneered.

Kyle couldn’t reply, as he was busy diving out the way of a barrage of blaster cannon shots, exploding a crate behind him as he took cover. By the time he looked back, the Rodian was gone, and the speeder, which Kyle could see had two passengers now, was zooming away.

***

Kyp sat on a crate, wringing his cloak and shaking water out of his ears. Kyle, pacing back and forth near the other Jedi, was trying his best not to fume.

“I hope you’re happy, Durron,” Kyle said, doing his best to sound levelheaded. “That’s three accomplices we let get away because you acted recklessly.”

“Four, actually,” Kyp said sarcastically. “Don’t forget Dash.” His tone grew angry. “And don’t you just blame me. I was the only one of us who seemed to actually want to catch these guys!”

Kyle stopped pacing, scoffed, and pointed a finger at Kyp. “I know what I’m doing, and you know good and well I do! This is my domain, Durron. Now, thanks to you, what is very likely Barm’s men knows two Jedi are on their trail.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Kyp suggested. “Now they’ll act paranoid, erratic. More likely to make mistakes.”

Kyle tried to think of a retort, but he merely waved a hand and turned away. The kid’s got a point, but Huttslime, he’s gonna get us killed.

Kyle shook his head after a moment and turned back to Kyp. “Listen, right now we should lay low. Get our bearings straight.” He shrugged and sighed. “I should’ve given you more time to prepare before throwing you into things, I recognize that.” He reached out a hand to help Kyp down from the crate. “Let’s fix that, and get back at it tomorrow.”

Kyp glanced at Kyle’s hand, thought for a second, then took it, nodding.

Chapter Text

Anakin!  

Jaina’s eyes shot open, only to immediately squeeze shut again as her rear collided with the cold durasteel floor. She lay back on the floor, looking up to the ceiling, dotted with dim lights, processing what little of her vision she remembered. 

She had been meditating, opening herself up completely to the Force in such a way she had rarely achieved before. Her body had begun to levitate in the air, lighter than oxygen particles, floating in the stillness. Then, her senses were suddenly assaulted with the all-too familiar smell of charred yorik coral and the howling of voxyn.  

In the chaos, a beacon of light had come twirling through, a respite in the agony. But even that was eventually snuffed out. 

It was her brother, Jaina knew. Not Jacen, but Anakin. When he died, he had become a conduit of the light side, a glowing, pulsing reactor of Force energy. He surrendered his dying body completely to the Force to buy the rest of the Myrkr team time to get away, and he had paid the ultimate price for it. Now, Jaina was seeing her brother in his last moments again. Not his smug, boyish face. Not his silly orange jumpsuit. She was seeing him die, all over again. 

Sometimes I feel like the Force hates me.  

Rubbing her temple and sitting up, Jaina looked around the cluttered medbay. Well, “meday” if you were being generous. This particular Lambda -class shuttle, the Starwind , was one of the Jedi’s personal diplomatic shuttles, and Lowbacca had more or less claimed it as his own. With all the downtime the Jedi had had since the end of the war, he’d turned it into a bit of a personal project. 

What might have once been a standard medbay was now some strange hybrid between workshop, holding cell, and auxiliary cargo bay. Fusion cutters, power couplings, and stripped-down bits of starship hull shared space with vials of synthflesh, hemostats, and half-dismantled blasters. 

Jaina snorted quietly to herself. She could hardly reach the Force properly back on Ossus, a world teeming with life. But here, on this cold, cluttered tin can, she was being thrown into memories and pain all-too fresh. 

As she tried to steady herself, she felt them- little nudges, faint prods and brushes through the Force. Everyone on the team had felt her. Of course they had . Jaina sighed. She loved them, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t sneeze without someone checking in. Probably the meld again. It wouldn’t surprise her if one or two of them had caught flashes of the vision themselves. 

One presence was approaching now, focused entirely on her. 

Blast it.  

Jaina turned as the door slid open and saw Zekk, standing in the frame, concern all over his face. 

Zekk’s face faltered for a moment. Jaina blushed, realizing she probably gave him an annoyed look without even noticing. She softened her expression and gave a tired half-smile.  

“I, uh, had some trouble meditating,” she said half-heartedly. “Probably just...being back on assignment with everyone again.” 

Zekk shrugged. “No big deal. You alright?” 

“Sure.” Jaina nodded and leaned against a table, her hand absently taking hold of some sort of busted circuit. “Just...nerves.” 

He leaned against a crate opposite her, arms folded, watching her with that stillness of his. She could feel him in the Force- words lining up in his head, second-guessing himself one phrase after another. 

Eventually, he settled on: “It’ll be alright.” 

Nice one . 

He continued. “After everything we’ve been through, this is just cleanup. A warm-up to get us back out there. We’re a little rusty, that’s all.” 

Jaina looked away, her mind drifting to the image of Anakin’s glowing body, and then to the nigh-disaster on Hapes she caused due to her grief. “Do you remember when we used to spend all night running through the Coruscant undercity?” She asked, still glancing towards nothing. “How many shops and cantinas do you think threw us out?” 

Zekk’s brow lifted, amused despite himself. He walked over and leaned against the table near Jaina, maybe a little too near. “Too many to count,” he said with a grin. “The number kept climbing after you and Jacen got shipped off to Yavin. I think a few shops put up warning posters.” 

Jaina snickered and picked up the fried circuit, fumbling it between her hands. “I miss those days.” Her eyes hardened and she straightened her posture. “It’s a shame we can’t go back.” 

“The galaxy’s more than running around slums, Jaina.” Zekk said, his gaze locked on her. “I miss those days, too. But this is our job, and you’re not doing this alone.” He took a step closer. Jaina turned to gaze into his eyes, her expression somewhere between annoyance and interest.  

“Let me help you,” Zekk said, offering a hand. Jaina hesitated. She knew how Zekk felt. She had known for a long time. After everything with Jag...sure, the thought had crossed her mind. But Zekk was her oldest friend. He was part of her foundation. Like a brother, right?  

And now, with the mission ahead and the weight of the galaxy pressing down again, this wasn’t the time. Maybe it never would be. Still, part of her wanted something, someone, to help her carry the weight. 

She let the pause linger just long enough before placing a hand on his shoulder instead of taking his. 

“Zekk, you know I care about you. And the rest of the team.” She smiled. “I know we’ll be fine, I just need to work this out up here,” She tapped her temple. “As much as this blasted meld will allow.” 

Zekk’s face flashed a tinge of disappointment, but he smiled back and patted her shoulder in return. “I know. You’ll get there.” 

A flash in the Force from Lowbacca let the two know he needed them up in the cockpit. Jaina let out a silent breath of relief. She caught Zekk’s eye, nodded, and the two of them slipped out of the medbay side by side. 

Jaina and Zekk passed through the main passenger hold, noting the quiet. The others could be sensed ahead, clustered in the cockpit. They climbed the steep stairwell past the forward bulkhead and found Lowbacca in the pilot’s seat, staring ahead into the starlines of hyperspace. Tahiri and Alema stood on either side of him. 

Lowbacca glanced back and grunted. 

“We’ll be reaching Kuat any second now,” Tahiri said. 

“Good,” Jaina replied. “Everyone get your gear together. I want to land as soon as we drop out.” 

The team acknowledged Jaina and began to scatter, gathering their equipment. They packed light- comm units, a few blaster pistols, datapads, and of course their lightsabers. They all dressed in traditional Jedi robes, something not all of them were used to. Jaina, and Uncle Luke, figured it would be a nice visual cue that the Jedi had returned to their traditional duties. 

As the others moved, Jaina slid into the co-pilot’s seat and exhaled. The chair welcomed her like an old friend. Piloting had always come easier than being a Jedi. One was passion. The other, duty. 

She checked the star chart. Almost there. 

“Think Tandi will have a welcoming committee?” she muttered. 

Lowbacca snorted without looking. 

Jaina grinned. Syala Tandi, CEO of Kuat Drive Yards, powerbroker of the Oligarchical Council, was practically a planetary monarch. If the Jedi still carried weight around here, Jaina half expected a parade, typical of high Kuati society. But if the rumors were true, and the Kuati resented the Jedi...well, that would be a different kind of greeting. Either way, her throat tightened. 

A moment later, Lowbacca pulled the lever. Starlines shrank into stars. Realspace returned, and Jaina’s gut gave its usual lurch. No matter how many jumps she made, hyperspace reversion always hit her the same. 

Jaina looked out the viewport towards Kuat. It glimmered in shades of emerald and turquoise, threaded through with more modest hues. A temperate, lush world by all accounts, the world’s natural beauty was the last thing it was known for. Instead, Kuat’s renown was due to the gangly durasteel jewelry that strangled the planet. Shipyards, orbital stations, and drydocks fueled the economy of Kuat and made it one of the top contributors of starships in the galaxy.  

Through the breaks in those massive structures, Jaina could just make out a pale grey swell on the surface- Kuat City, the world’s largest urban center. 

That used to be the only significant groundside development. But things were changing. 

According to the report R2 had forwarded, KDY had pressured the Oligarchical Council into expanding operations onto the surface, claiming necessity in the wake of the Yuuzhan Vong’s brief occupation. Dozens of new factories and industrial hubs had broken ground, fracturing the carefully preserved ecosystem.  

In response, the Vong settlers had offered an unorthodox trade: their biotech to help strengthen the planet’s environment to resist pollution and tainting if Kuat’s elites would let them stay. 

Jaina sighed at the mess ahead and checked the tactical display. Thousands of ships, stations, and floating transponders lit up in Kuat’s orbit like scattered stars. They would need to hail KDF, the Kuat Defense Force, and request docking somewhere that would get them in contact with the local GA representative, or maybe even the Oligarchical Council itself. The sooner they could be briefed and allowed to do their job, the sooner the team could go home. 

"Open a channel, Lowie. Hail KDF." 

Lowie grunted and pointed to the communications array. They were already being hailed.  

“That was quick,” Jaina muttered, noting the amount of traffic in orbit. A ripple in the Force made her pause. Why were so many ships just...parked out here? None of them were headed for a station or the surface, and just as few were leaving. They hovered in quiet limbo. 

Furrowing her brow, Jaina turned on the comm switch. 

“Lambda -class shuttle, this is KDF Orbital Control,” came a shrill, squirrely male voice. “Send your transponder codes and you’ll be added to the queue.” 

Jaina’s nose wrinkled. “This is Lambda -class, designation Starwind . Sorry, orbital control- you said a queue?” 

“That is correct, Starwind ,” the voice said, sounding impatient. “Kuat is under a planetary state of emergency following a recent incident. All ships are grounded. Incoming vessels are being placed in a holding queue. Once the incident is cleared, we will begin docking ships in the order of their arrival.” 

Jaina’s gut twisted. An incident, bad enough to cause a global lockdown? Let’s hope that means we aren’t too late , she thought to herself. 

Lowie growled something under his breath. Jaina forced down a chuckle. “Be glad the mic wasn’t hot, Lowie,” she muttered, before flicking the comm back on. “Orbital control, we’re sending our transponder codes now. But we must make you aware that we are on a diplomatic mission from the Galactic Alliance and the Jedi Order. It is imperative that we be allowed to dock immediately so we can be briefed on this incident.” 

“Starwind, that is simply not possible,” the voice called back. “No ships are to be allowed to dock or land until further notice, no matter the reason for your arrival.”  

Jaina swallowed a curse word or two, and steadied herself in the Force. Diplomatic mission, right? No point screaming at some poor comm officer doing his job.   

“Orbital control,” Jaina said, emphasizing each word to keep from going off script. “In case your receiver needs cleaning, let me say again that we are representatives of the Jedi Order, sent by the Galactic Alliance to mediate and solve the current crisis underway on your-” 

Lowbacca trilled and tapped her on the shoulder, claws motioning toward the comm panel. The primary channel blinked red, on hold, as another comm line lit up across the display. A priority override? Another channel was hailing the Starwind. 

“What in the blazes?” Jaina frowned. “Is that channel overriding orbital control?” 

Lowbacca shrugged, and Jaina gestured for him to put the new channel on. 

“This is Starwind. Jedi Knight Jaina Solo speaking.” 

“Jaina Solo? Jedi Knight Jaina Solo?” A honey-sweet, sing-song voice rang out through the cockpit. “You’re saying the GA sent one of the heroes of the war to aid us in our time of need? This couldn’t be grander news!” 

Jaina glanced awkwardly to Lowbacca, who seemed to be stifling a snicker. 

“Uh, that would be right,” she replied. “I’m leading a team of Jedi Knights to mediate the conflict between the Kuati and the Yuuzhan Vong settlement. We feel it appropriate to request immediate docking and briefing. We understand an incident has recently occurred.” 

“Oh, but of course!” the voice cried. “I’m Syala Tandi, darling, CEO of Kuat Drive Yards. I’ve been expecting you! The moment I heard a Lambda- class shuttle was giving orbital control a bit of trouble, I just knew it had to be our Jedi saviors.” 

Jaina raised an eyebrow. How in space did she know about that so quickly? When Jaina had heard that KDY practically ruled the planet, she wasn’t sure how literal that was. But now... 

“You are granted access to land, of course. But, not at a station. This incident occurred on-world, at one of our new tibanna processing plants. I’ll send KDF ships to escort you down. Behave yourself, now.” 

Before Jaina could utter another word, the channel was dead and orbital control was re-connected with the Starwind . 

“Maintain your present course,” the shrill male voice said, more sheepishly than annoyed now. “We’ll send security ships to lead you down.” 

*** 

The team descended the boarding ramp in a cross formation, with Jaina at the point and Lowbacca holding the rear. Her eyes swept over the landscape. In the distance, green hills and sparse forest still framed the horizon. But in the foreground, a web of factories, warehouses, and a hovertrain track ringed the landing pads like a steel vice. The bitter-sweet reek of tibanna hung in the air. 

That’s not good , Jaina thought. Loose tibanna in the atmosphere only meant one thing: a rupture. She didn’t need much more brainpower to figure out what the “incident” had been. The flurry of emergency craft orbiting Tibanna Processing Plant 7 in the distance confirmed her suspicions. 

A welcoming party stood ahead. 

Several KDF guards in sharp black and navy uniforms formed a protective semi-circle around the delegation. Jaina’s eyes picked out the key figures from left to right. 

First: a tall, weathered woman in matte-black combat armor, the Kuat Defense Force sigil stamped on her left pauldron. She stood with arms crossed, jaw tense, posture stiff with authority. Her close-cropped hair framed a face carved with hard years, and a faint scar split her top lip and ran diagonally up toward her right ear. An SX-21 pump-action scatter blaster hung at her back. 

Beside her stood what could only be Syala Tandi. 

Slightly curvy, average height, her dark brown hair was streaked with silver and twisted into three elaborate buns, flaunting her high Kuati heritage like a crest. She wore a flowing, layered gown of green and yellow, the fabric glittering subtly in the hazy afternoon sun. It framed her emerald eyes like gemstones. She smiled at the Jedi in a wide, poised, and utterly strained manner. 

Jaina shuddered. 

Finally, to the right of Tandi a man practically cowered in her shadow. He stood, and while his posture was straight and dignified, Jaina barely needed the Force to sense the man’s anxiety. He was on the shorter side, with neat black hair and tan skin. His goatee was trimmed and served to age up his boyish face. He couldn’t have been more than 26 or 27, just a few years older than Jaina. His maroon suit of Coruscanti cut suggested diplomacy. Jaina guessed this man might be a local GA representative. 

She suppressed a sigh. 

Tandi stepped forward and bowed in a grandiose gesture, her smile unwavering and her eyes fixed on the Jedi. 

“Welcome to Kuat, Master Jedi,” she cooed. “Please, I have a transport waiting to take us to the site of the incident.” 

Jaina returned a polite smile, but her eyes flicked to Alema and Tahiri flanking her. They stepped forward and bowed, prompting Jaina to do the same a beat too late. Zekk and Lowbacca behind her followed suit. 

This isn’t Hapes , Jaina reminded herself, but the Kuati take etiquette seriously. Remember what Tenel Ka taught you . 

“That would be great, um...” Jaina hesitated, unsure of how to address Tandi. 

“Executive Tandi is appropriate,” the woman said smoothly, offering a gracious nod. She gestured to her companions as they turned toward a speeder transport idling a few dozen meters away. 

“Allow me to introduce Marshal Bril Condor, commander of the Kuat Defense Force, and Nazta Edel, Galactic Alliance representative to Kuat and administrator of the Galactic Alliance Reconstruction Authority.” 

Marshal Condor paused just long enough to salute crisply before continuing toward the speeder. Edel offered a polite nod and quick smile, but Jaina could feel his frustration bleeding into the Force. It was not directed at them, but at Tandi, who had neatly taken charge of the entire introduction with barely a glance in his direction. 

“We’re grateful for your presence,” Edel said quietly to Jaina and the team as they walked. “Things have grown complicated. I hope the Jedi can help simplify them.” 

Tandi, who had clearly heard him, did not turn. “We’re all very grateful, yes,” she sang out. “Representative Edel has worked so hard. But the truth is, we’ve been asked to integrate a group of people who simply can’t conform.” A waiting guard offered her a hand into the speeder. She sat with a graceful fold of her layered dress, then turned with a slight pout. “This incident only reinforces that some differences may prove irreconcilable.” 

Jaina stepped onto the transport. It was a long, armored yet elegant escort speeder with sleek side doors and an open top for visibility.  

“You’re saying the Vong settlers did this?” Tahiri asked Tandi, her tone even but hard. Jaina worried that Tahiri would not be able to remain neutral in this mission, given her ties to the Yuuzhan Vong. Still, it was definitely clear that Tandi was implying Vong involvement.  

“I’m not making any hard claims,” Tandi replied sweetly, though her eyes locked on Tahiri with a calculating chill. “But I think it’s best if you see it for yourselves. The truth is becoming crystal clear.” 

*** 

The low hum of the escort speeder set a steady rhythm beneath Tandi’s voice, which she wasted no time putting to use. As they glided past vast industrial complexes toward Tibanna Processing Plant 7, she gestured smoothly to the skyline. 

“Due to the catastrophic occupation, many of our orbital facilities remain non-operational or are working at a fraction of capacity,” she said, voice clear and measured. “KDY had to make a difficult but necessary decision to expand surface operations. With a planet as resource-rich and spacious as Kuat, we could no longer afford to let this land lie fallow, not when the galaxy’s fleets need rebuilding.” 

She let the words hang, then added, “The war has left the galaxy gutted. Entire sectors remain unarmed. Even the GA has been slow to replenish its navy. If...” Tandi paused, carefully selecting her next words. “If another threat were to emerge, we cannot afford to be caught unprepared. Kuat must be ready to supply the finest warships the galaxy has to offer.” 

Jaina tried to focus on the speech, but her eyes drifted to the rows of factories blurring past. She reached out through the Force...and felt it. 

Something wrong. Hard to name, but unmistakable. She’d felt it many times before. 

Threads of unease ran through the minds around her in the speeder, in the workers below, in the air itself. Anxiety, yes. Suspicion, too. But beneath it all simmered something sharper- anger. Cold, buried deep, and everywhere. 

She touched the minds of her fellow Jedi. They felt it too. 

Beside her, Alema’s presence was tight and cold. Jaina glanced her way. The Twi’lek was staring at Tandi with a smile so faint it might have been painted on. 

Alema turned to look out at the treeline in the distance, her gaze flat. “Nice to see what the this place looked like before it got promoted to ‘resource zone,’” she said dryly. 

A flicker of irritation flashed across Tandi’s face, quickly masked. Jaina sent a small nudge through the Force, a firm but friendly reminder to watch her tone. Alema didn’t reply, but Jaina felt a faint pulse of acknowledgment. 

“The sacrifices we make for galactic recovery burden us all,” Tandi replied, her voice remaining smooth but her eyes briefly narrowing. “Once production has returned to normal, we’ll do all we can to restore the local environment.” 

“Once we deal with this incursion, that is,” Marshal Condor cut in, her voice like gravel. “My troops have kept the protests from boiling over, but it’s hard to boost output when half the labor force is in the streets over these Vong.” 

“We’ve done our best to support new operations,” Edel added from his seat, carefully neutral. “Funding, aid packages, oversight. I’ve tried to mediate negotiations, but the situation remains...delicate.” 

“That’s what we’re here for,” Jaina said, using her mother’s most diplomatic tone. “Though I’d appreciate finally hearing what this ‘incident’ actually was.” 

Tandi gave a subtle nod toward Marshal Condor. 

“Explosion,” Condor said, blunt and flat. “Inside the compression chamber. Three dead.” 

Shock rippled through the Jedi team, a silent echo in the Force. 

“Do you know what caused it?” Zekk asked, leaning forward. 

“We have promising leads,” Condor replied. “The evidence paints a...concerning picture.” 

The speeder slowed as the plant came into view. Tibanna Processing Plant 7 loomed before them, a web of scaffolding, domes, and piping. Emergency craft buzzed overhead, while workers, medics, guards, and holonews crews crowded the main docking platform. 

Tandi gave a practiced, solemn smile. “Let us have the Jedi examine the evidence and offer their judgment, shall we?” 

The delegation disembarked. Jaina watched a thin trail of smoke rise into the sky from the site ahead, her unease curling with it. 

Chapter Text

In Jaina’s experience, blown-up rooms always had a certain charm. This one just had an added punch. Twisted durasteel lay scattered across the floor, tangled with cauterized chunks of Vong biotech that still squelched faintly in the heat. The air reeked of charred flesh, scorched metal, melted rubber, and tibanna. Jaina bit the inside of her cheek, hoping none of what she smelled used to be a person. She scanned the chamber. No body bags, no blankets. Maybe, hopefully, the victims had already been removed. 

That is, if there was anything left of them. 

She shook the thought aside. The team stood at the edge of the compression chamber. Marshal Condor conferred with a nearby officer while Executive Tandi and Representative Edel flanked the Jedi delegation. The Force buzzed with tension. Unease and suspicion bled from the guards and officials. 

"Absolutely abhorrent," Tandi murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear. She shook her head with solemn grace. "Three good workers, their lives taken for nothing." 

Jaina shifted her weight, glancing toward Condor, who had just finished speaking with her officer. "What do we know so far?" she asked. 

Marshal Condor’s presence ripped briefly in the Force. Likely, Jaina guessed, at her use of the word “we.” Regardless, Condor stepped back and gestured to her officer. “Fill them in, lieutenant.” 

The Duros officer saluted and stepped forward.  

“The explosion occurred early this morning, around 0200 hours. The inspection was authorized by Foreman Hugo Aran after technician Dama Kees, another casualty, reported an odd alert coming from the chamber. Seemingly something about pressure readouts. We’re still recovering systems data. The blast scrambled most of the plant’s internal records. Some logs were corrupted outright." 

Condor nodded for him to continue. The lieutenant stepped further into the chamber, motioning toward the warped machinery and ceiling piping overhead. 

"An explosion in a tibanna compression system usually means a pressure spike followed by a rupture. Overhead containment failed first, we figure. Tibanna began venting into the chamber, and some kind of spark must have set it off. That kind of blast doesn’t happen without ignition." 

Jaina crossed her arms. That aligned with what she knew of tibanna safety hazards. It’s a volatile gas, always lethal when uncontained and disturbed. 

“And the...Vong material?” Tandi asked, her voice light and hesitant. 

The lieutenant pointed toward a scorched clump of blackened flesh fused to the machinery. "Standard biotech: zorak-veins for pressure regulation and kullas for heat containment. Unfortunately, most of it is too badly damaged for full diagnostics." 

"What I meant," Tandi said with a measured smile, "was whether the biotech seems to have played a role in the failure." 

The lieutenant glanced at Condor. She gave a subtle nod. 

"What remains of the biotech shows signs of discoloration and heat stress. It looks like it failed to recognize the pressure spike or send the appropriate response. Foreman Aran’s logs indicated normal readings right up to the detonation. Early signs suggest the biotech misinterpreted, or masked, the data." 

Tahiri tensed beside Jaina. Her emotions rose like smoke. Jaina sent her a calming nudge in the Force. Tahiri pushed back with a sharper wave of skepticism. 

Tandi exhaled, slow and deliberate, then turned toward the Jedi. "That seems fairly conclusive, doesn’t it? Master Jedi, what’s your take? Tensions have reached a breaking point and now lives have been lost. I am sorry. It appears your work here just became more complicated." 

She muttered something under her breath, but Jaina was already moving toward the remnants of one of the ruined compression tanks. 

"It’s too early to tell," Zekk said before she could respond. 

"Yeah. We just got here," Alema added, her arms folded tightly. 

The Duros lieutenant stepped forward again, holding out a hand to Jaina. "Apologies, Master Jedi, but this area is under active KDF investigation. We can’t allow the crime scene to be disturbed." 

"A crime scene?" Tahiri’s voice cut in from behind Jaina, sharp and incredulous. "You’re calling it a crime scene based on a malfunction and some roasted biotech? That’s a long jump for an accident with no witnesses.” 

Jaina swore she heard Alema murmur through the Force: “Well…living witnesses.” She focused back to the Duros and raised an eyebrow. “She has a point. And besides, we were brought here to investigate and mediate. Surely I’m allowed to take a closer look. 

“You were brought here to mediate, not investigate.” Marshal Condor snapped, stepping forward, her boots crunching debris underfoot. “Investigation falls to KDF. My officers are more than capable, unless you don’t trust their findings.” 

“Findings and theories aren’t the same,” Tahiri said evenly. “And Jedi are trained to sense things others can’t. You should want our insight.” 

Tension crackled in the air. Tandi raised both hands, her voice smooth as ever. “Please. I understand your concerns, Marshal Condor. But let’s not turn this into a power struggle. Jedi Solo, perhaps it’s best to give our officers a moment to finish their sweep before-” 

A beep cut through the air. It was Condor’s commlink. She raised it to her mouth. “Condor. …Understood. Bring him in.” 

She turned to Tandi with a nod. “Apologies, Executive, but our suspect has arrived.” 

Jaina’s mind buzzed. Suspect? KDF moves fast. Maybe too fast. She turned as the chamber doors slid open, revealing Aglok Mon, flanked by two guards. It didn’t take the Force to feel the anger simmering just beneath his surface. 

“This is an outrage!” he barked, his voice echoing through the chamber. “We have done nothing but seek peace!” 

Jaina reached toward Tahiri through the Force, offering her some grounding. She glanced at her team. Zekk stood calm and composed. Alema looked faintly amused. Lowbacca gave a low, skeptical growl. Jaina turned her focus back to the scene unfolding before them. 

Marshal Condor was already moving in on Mon, eyes sharp and shoulders squared. 

Jaina took a breath. Her stomach twisted. Am I really about to defend a Yuuzhan Vong? He must know something. Vong biotech has a history of reacting violently with standard tech. Some of it is practically designed to sabotage... 

Isn’t it?  

Condor began questioning Mon. Jaina lifted her chin, steadying herself.  

As Jaina stepped forward, Representative Edel approached Tandi quietly. 

“Executive,” he murmured, “the Yuuzhan Vong settlement is under Galactic Alliance protection through the GARA agreements. We need to proceed with caution.” 

Jaina didn’t catch Tandi’s reply. Her focus was fixed ahead as she moved toward Condor and Mon. 

“Marshal Condor,” she said, steadying her voice, “as mediator, I ask to be present for this questioning.” 

Condor gave her a curt glance. “By all means,” she said. “I was just asking Aglok Mon what he knows about the biotech installed here at Plant Seven.” 

“And I know nothing worth mentioning,” Mon replied at once. “Only the complexities of Yuuzhan Vong organic engineering, and that it had nothing to do with this tragic malfunction.” 

Jaina narrowed her eyes. “Nothing worth mentioning? Vong biotech is unlike anything the rest of the galaxy uses. It can fail in ways we barely understand. Your people had a responsibility to monitor it. Where was that vigilance?” 

Mon gave her a look of disbelief. “ Jeedai Solo, you were sent to protect us. Now you accuse us?” 

“I accuse no one,” Jaina said, managing to temper her tone. I’m here to find the truth, she wanted to say, but something in Mon’s eyes made the words falter. Tahiri nudged her gently in the Force. 

Jaina softened. “I wasn’t sent to defend one side or the other. My duty is to bring both sides to the best outcome possible. But if KDY wasn’t fully informed about how this biotech works, especially when it’s regulating explosive gas, that’s a problem.” 

Jaina felt a presence step beside her. It was Tahiri. The blond Jedi bowed respectfully to Aglok Mon. 

“Gadma dar , Aglok Mon. I am Jedi—” 

“One Who Was Shaped,” Mon said, reverent. “I did not know you were part of this mission. You honor me, Riina Kwaad.” He bowed in return. 

Tahiri gave a gentle smile. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. We meant no offense. But we must understand what caused this explosion.” 

She turned to Marshal Condor. “Marshal, can you say with certainty that the Yuuzhan Vong settlers were involved?” 

Condor's eyes flicked to Jaina, then back to Tahiri. “We're still forming our theories,” she said, voice clipped. “I’m just asking questions.” 

“And Aglok Mon has answered them. Without evidence, more questions will only deepen the divide.” 

Tandi cleared her throat delicately. “If I may-” 

“That’s all right, Executive,” Condor said, already turning. “I’ve asked what I need for now.” She nodded to her guards. “Escort Aglok Mon back to the settlement.” 

Jaina felt a shift in the Force, Tahiri’s quiet relief. 

“Thank you, Jeedai Kwaad,” Mon said as he bowed once more. “You and the other Jeedai are welcome at our home. Perhaps we can convince Jeedai Solo of our innocence.” 

Jaina turned away, jaw tight. She knew Mon didn’t mean it as a jab. But still, her saber hand twitched with old instincts. She took a breath and exhaled slowly. 

Once Mon was gone, Jaina regrouped with the others. Tandi and Edel stood in quiet conversation near the doors. Marshal Condor moved off, barking updates into her commlink. 

Jaina took a second to figure out what to say, but of course, that second was enough for the others to pick up on her thoughts through the Force. 

“It’s alright,” Alema said. Jaina blinked. She didn’t expect Alema to be the first one to reassure her. “We’re not exactly being asked to stick up for a tribe of cuddly Ewoks.” 

“We’re here to mediate,” Zekk added. “And that means making sure no one’s stepping on anyone’s toes. The Vong could still be involved, sure. But KDF needs evidence before they decide that.” 

“You’re right,” Jaina said. “And I’m sorry. You all know this isn’t exactly my preferred lane.” She looked to Tahiri as she spoke. The younger woman gave a warm smile. 

“I won’t pretend I’m thrilled to be here either,” Tahiri admitted. “I’m still not sure whether I belong more with you or with Zonama Sekot. But if the Yuuzhan Vong really do want peace, I might be their best chance of getting it.” 

“And I won’t forget that,” Jaina replied, meaning it. 

Lowbacca gave a low rumble and sniff. Jaina nodded. 

“Lowie’s right. We need a plan. No more being dragged around by this delegation.” She glanced to Tandi and Edel across the chamber. Tandi was still talking to Edel, but Jaina swore she was being watched. “Something’s off here. We need to get a better grip on the situation, and we need it now. So...we split up.” 

They worked it out quickly. Zekk and Lowbacca would stay behind with KDF and keep combing through the explosion site. Anything suspicious, any leads, anything that didn’t sit right. 

Meanwhile, Jaina, Tahiri, and Alema would head to the Vong settlement. They’d catch up to Aglok Mon, get a look at their operations, talk to settlers, examine the terraforming effort, and see if anything pointed toward sabotage...or something being covered up. 

“Do we run this by what’s-her-name?” Alema asked as the group began to split. 

Jaina gave a half-smile. “I’ll handle it.” 

*** 

As the three Jedi women stepped through the durasteel doors to catch up with Aglok Mon, Zekk lingered behind with Lowbacca. He avoided Executive Tandi’s gaze as she gave a bombastic farewell, wishing them luck before heading off to a banquet or some other nonsense. 

Lowbacca grunted something sarcastic. Zekk snickered and turned his attention back to the ruined chamber surrounding them. 

“Let’s get to work,” he muttered. 

As Lowbacca started sifting through the debris, Zekk approached the Duros lieutenant. Marshal Condor was nowhere in sight. 

“I’m guessing you’ve changed your mind about letting us take a closer look?” he asked. 

The lieutenant’s mouth tightened, like he’d just bitten into something bitter. 

“Marshal Condor confirmed your authority. She stepped out to deal with the crowd gathering outside.” 

Zekk nodded, polite and composed. “Appreciate it. We’ll stay out of your team’s way and report anything useful.” 

The Duros gave a noncommittal grunt and turned back to his officers. 

Zekk turned to Lowbacca, who gave him a wry look. 

“Yeah,” Zekk muttered, “spending too much time on Ossus makes you forget half the galaxy still doesn’t trust us.” 

Lowie snorted in agreement and tossed aside a cracked panel of duracrete. He picked up a fragment of Vong biotech, sniffed it, then recoiled, flipping it over to inspect the underside. 

“Anything?” Zekk asked, stepping past him. 

Lowie shrugged and huffed. 

Zekk scanned the chamber. His eyes caught on one of the ruined compression tanks, about eight meters ahead. Its dome was caved in, but the lower housing looked mostly intact, and more importantly, this tank sat nearest the pipeline junction where the tibanna flow had reportedly destabilized. If anything important survived the blast, it might have landed here. 

“Keep digging. I’ll check that one.” 

Zekk picked his way over the debris toward the tank, gave it a quick once-over, and used the Force to leap onto its rim. He landed on the warped edge, boots skidding slightly before he caught his balance. 

He peered down into the chamber. The floor was a jumble of torn durasteel, twisted piping, and whatever was left of the ceiling, and maybe the tank itself. It was hard to tell what belonged where anymore. 

Zekk gauged his descent before dropping down into the tank. The walls around him resounded in a muted but audible echo as he came down on the metal and duracrete below. He looked at the debris around him, checking for anything that might not belong. 

After some careful sifting, Zekk spotted just that. 

It was a small component- unremarkable at first glance, but different enough to catch his eye. Most of the intact sensors, relays, and hardware scattered throughout the chamber followed the same industrial style: heavy, angular, and overbuilt, like most KDY equipment. This one was different. Slim, smooth, with a minimalist design. 

Zekk’s years scavenging in the Coruscant undercity had trained his eye to recognize manufacturing differences in an instant. This wasn’t KDY standard issue. Maybe not Kuati at all. 

What really drew his attention, though, was its condition. No charring, no stress fractures, no impact scoring. It looked practically untouched, like it had been installed yesterday...and didn’t just survive a tibanna explosion. 

Now that’s interesting.  

Zekk pocketed the component, marked the tank’s rim mentally, and then Force leapt up and out. He landed beside Lowie, who was busy studying a half-melted conduit with his multitool. 

Zekk cast a glance toward the KDF officers. They were busy talking amongst themselves or focused on other parts of the chamber. He pulled the component from his pocket with practiced ease and passed it discreetly to Lowie. 

“Check this out. Definitely out of place,” he murmured. 

Lowie examined the piece with a low, puzzled trill. 

“Yeah,” Zekk said, reading his meaning. “Must be some kind of heat-resistant alloy, maybe military grade, to survive the blast without a scratch. See what you can pull from it.” 

The Wookiee huffed in acknowledgment and set the component down on a nearby ledge of bent durasteel. With multitool in one hand and datapad in the other, he went to work. 

Zekk leaned in briefly to glance at the datapad screen, until he felt a shift in the Force. Someone was approaching. He turned to find Representative Edel making his way toward them. 

That’s odd. I don’t remember seeing him leave, or come back in.  

Zekk straightened, subtly shifting to block the component from Edel’s view. 

“Representative Edel,” Zekk said politely. “Can we help you with something?” 

Edel smiled and laced his fingers in front of him. “Only to thank you, both of you. The Jedi presence here is more appreciated than you might know.” His smile flickered for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “It took some behind-the-scenes pressure, but I convinced Senator Barm to put in a request to Chief Omas. In a way, I was one of the first to suggest Jedi involvement.” 

Zekk reached into the Force, lightly brushing Edel’s surface. The man felt guarded, not dishonest, but definitely holding something back. 

“I’ve read some of Barm’s public remarks,” Zekk said. “He’s not exactly friendly toward the Jedi. Much like his predecessor.” 

Edel’s expression dimmed at the mention. “Yes. Viqi Shesh is still a stain we haven't fully scrubbed out of the archives. But that was a different time.” He glanced past Zekk, toward Lowbacca, who was still bent over his datapad. “Your friend looks focused. Anything of interest?” 

Zekk shifted slightly, enough to block Edel’s line of sight without drawing attention to it. “Nothing conclusive yet.” 

He studied Edel more closely now. The man had backed Aglok Mon, and his Force presence was tense but not aggressive. Just cautious...measured. 

“You were part of the team that negotiated the Vong settlement deal, weren’t you?” Zekk asked. “Do you believe they really want peace?” 

Edel paused. His eyes drifted toward a nearby pair of KDF officers, then returned to Zekk. 

“My official stance is that every opportunity for peace should be explored. That includes giving all sides a fair hearing.” He offered a diplomatic smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He turned as if to leave, then stopped. 

“You're not as restricted as I am,” he spoke in a hushed tone. “Come by my office when you have a moment. We can speak more openly there.” 

With that, he nodded and exited through the main doors. 

Zekk watched Edel leave, but before he could dwell on the man’s parting words, a large, furry hand turned him around. Lowbacca held out the dismantled component. 

The insides were scorched, completely fried. Not from the outside in, but from the inside out. 

“Droyk,” Zekk muttered. “What gives?” 

Lowie gave a low, questioning rumble and gestured toward the device. Zekk reached out through the Force and caught the gist of it. 

“It burned itself out,” he said. “Like it was meant to. A failsafe?” 

Lowie pointed to a faint strip of scratches along the casing. They were barely visible etchings and faded symbols, almost scrubbed off. 

Zekk leaned closer. “A serial number. Or what’s left of one. Someone didn’t want this traced.” 

Lowie gave a smug trill and tapped his datapad. Zekk handed the component back and took the device. 

He scrolled through Lowie’s findings. The longer he read, the more his curiosity turned into unease. 

“Yeah,” Zekk said, voice low. “This definitely wasn’t Vong.”