~~ ~ [] ~ ~~ Two Years Later

   ~@~ The Pieces  

   Luke Skywalker walked the marble floors of the old Imperial Palace on Coruscant, navigating the ever-crowded hallways with a practiced ease as he made his way to Leia's office and then quietly let himself in.  He closed the door behind him and glanced around the corner that separated her office from a tiny vestibule which served as a waiting area.

   He had assumed that she would be fighting through the usual dunes of datawork, but he wasn't surprised to hear several voices mixing in the room ahead of him as well.  Leia had already picked up on her twin brother's sense, and he could feel her eagerness for the welcome interruption as she waved him inside with a grateful smile.  Not only was she surrounded with datawork, but two senator's assistants were gamely attempting to bend her ear in a favorable direction for their cause before the next Senate meeting.

   It took a few more attempts and rebuffs before the seconds began to realize that Leia wasn't going to be swayed today. Worse, she was beginning to grow annoyed by their repeated efforts.  So they made their final appeals and wisely retreated to leave Leia and Luke alone.

   Leia dropped tiredly into a chair as the outer door slid closed. As she sat, she handed a datapad from the corner of her desk over to Luke. He scanned it in silence for a few moments before looking back to his sister, and he noticed again how tired she looked.

   "Myrtle System?" he asked thoughtfully.

   She smiled dryly.  "Exactly," Leia said, reaching for a holo projector from one of the shelves behind her. "Kind of like the Tao System, except on the opposite end of the galaxy."

   Leia set up the small holo device and Luke watched it move through a long series of systems, as if it too was trying to illustrate the point, before it finally stopped on an image of the Myrtle system, neatly revolving that image in midair above the desk.

   "I guess that shouldn't be surprising," Luke conceded. "They can't set up operations right under our nose, now can they?" he smiled, wondering which of the issues of the day had been the focus during the last session of Senate debate.

   "I suppose not," Leia agreed.  His attempt at lightening her mood had only worked in part.

   Luke grimaced slightly.  "When do I leave?"

   "Immediately, I expect," she answered with a sigh.

   His eyebrows raised in casual surprise.  "They must really want progress on this."

   "What they really want is to get that weapons supply capped. This is the next best thing."

   "Right," Luke replied seriously, and his thoughts refocused. "What do we know about this system?"

   "Unfortunately, not too much," Leia half shrugged.

   "Great," Luke managed under his breath.  Before Leia had the chance to further expound, an alert chime sounded from across her desk.  She glanced toward it almost warily before she looked back to her brother. They both recognized its prompt.

   "Well, here we go," Leia breathed the acknowledgment, making it sound more like a challenge.

~

   "Again, I must advise against sending someone in this early in the investigation," Admiral Ackbar persisted. From the tone in his gravelly voice, he knew that this argument was already decided; that knowledge did nothing to mute the strength of his conviction, however. "We don't yet have enough information on these radical groups. We don't know how widely spread or how well supplied they are."  He hesitated.  "And we don't know anything about their internal compositions."

   Murmurs of protest arose from the handful of high ranking delegates who made up the Senate's Inner Council.

   "Admiral Ackbar."  Mon Mothma's smooth voice cut through the clamor of the others. "We are aware of your concerns, but I feel that the need for swift action is implicit in this situation."

   Ackbar's Mon Calamari eyes swivelled in an expression of his disappointment. "We have only begun to process Senior Officer Pellaeon's request for surrender.  We cannot allow our desire to reclaim the outer territories or our overconfidence in the Empire's defeat to hasten our actions and cloud our assessment of implicit risks."

   "Which is precisely why Jedi Skywalker is being sent into the Myrtle system, as a scout," came an icy rebuttal from Borsk Fey'lya. The Bothan delegate had no love loss for Ackbar. Judging from the withering glare with which Ackbar fixed Fey'lya as he scanned the table of his peers, that assessment could easily be called mutual.

   "This is simply a fact-finding mission, Admiral," Fey'lya concluded with an almost mocking simplicity.

   Everyone present knew that that statement was untrue, or at least that it was only a pretext. 

   Luke had been able to ascertain, mostly from what had been left unsaid during the lengthy briefing, that this part of the galaxy had never truly been chartered.  Mon Mothma and the rest of the Council were very much aware that bringing this sector into the New Republic would go a long way toward building confidences in the fledgling government. It would show that they could restore order to territories that had been lost to lawlessness during the Rebellion, and well before.  Once order was restored, safety and security regained, then they could begin the business of truly leading all the systems of the New Republic into a new era of peace and prosperity.

   On the other hand, there was a great deal of wisdom in Admiral Ackbar's argument.  They were dealing with an almost completely unknown quantity, which did present them with a great many implicit risks. Under the Old Republic, Myrtle had been a busy trade sector which took pains to keep political affiliations nonexistent.  Now it was believed to be a major operations center for one of the galaxy's largest illegal organizations, and a chain in the suspected Imperial Remnant Supply Network.

   Everything they were dealing with was an unknown.

   Ackbar shifted his weight in a Mon Calamari gesture of concession. His only remaining argument was that sending an agent in now could cause the group to panic and go underground.  The Inner Council had already spoken its voice on that matter by assigning the mission to Luke.

   "Jedi Skywalker."  Mon Mothma addressed him, her voice almost regal in its authority.  "You understand the importance that this mission be carried out with absolute stealth, and with the upmost caution." 

   It was not a question or an instruction, but a confident assumption.

   Luke stood slowly, letting his gaze pass around the gathering of the New Republic's highest officials. He met Leia's eyes for a moment, long enough to see her give him an encouraging smile, before his gaze returned again to Mon Mothma. 

   "This action," she accentuated, "could be a vital step in suppressing the warlord factions and putting a stop to the last of the Imperial Remnant Resistance, thus ensuring the long-term survival of the New Republic, and all that it stands for."

   "I understand," Luke stated.

   The leader of the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic smiled, only the corners of her mouth allowing the rare display.  "Then we wish you well," she offered in a voice that was at once heavy and hopeful.

   Luke knew that her words marked his dismissal, and he obediently nodded in acknowledgment to her and to the other Council members.  But the Jedi's eyes came back to rest on Mon Mothma's before he would turn to go.  Mon Mothma's steady-handed leadership both earned and commanded respect, and something told Luke that the leader of the New Republic would be right about the importance of this mission.

   Just as in the Old Times, a Jedi Knight bowed in service to the Republic.  And just as in the Old Times, he was sent into harm's way with one simple utterance to wish him well.

   "May the Force be with you," Luke heard  Mon Mothma whisper.  

~~ ~ () ~ ~~

   Luke paid off yet another planet official, guardedly nursing the feeling that he might finally be getting somewhere. Over the past several months, infiltrating this system and building his cover here had been his primary concerns.  The process had been involved and progress had been slow, but that was expected for an undercover mission as important as this one.  Trying to backtrack this one particular faction was like trying to follow a shadow.  Warlord factions were fringe operations, themselves functioning in the shadows of the galaxy. The secrecy that was essential to their survival made them hard for an outsider to track, and the loyalty that was demanded from their members had made it hard for New Republic Intelligence to successfully infiltrate them in the past.

   Gradually Luke had found his own leads within the outlines that New Republic Intelligence had been able to lay out for him, and the largely self-contained system was just as gradually opening up under the Jedi's watchful investigation. As he walked the streets of the system's central planet, Myrtle itself, Luke was hopeful that in the near future he would have something more solid to show for all his efforts.  He walked at a casual pace through the scruffy trees and wild flowering plants that lined many of the open walkways threading throughout the city.  His eyes passed as casually over what had once been brightly-colored signs hanging from the doorways of the remaining shops. Now they were symbols of neglected elegance and forgotten civility. Luke guessed that this had once been a respectable and prosperous place, but the Myrtle system continued to show itself to be a strange paradox.  What he had found here was a mixture of thriving commerce and elegant natural beauty, all deeply buried beneath layers of corruption and illegal activity.

   A strange sense of vicarious nostalgia tugged at Luke as the thought persisted.  He felt a sadness that the spirit of this place, once vital and alive, was now worn down by the harsh reality it faced. Life here had been reduced to mere survival. Luke hardly needed to look around to realize that beings were scared.  Much like the rule of the Empire, the warlord who ran this system did so by inspiring fear. That being was so feared, so much in control here, that the citizens did not dare to go against him; they knew that they lived and died at the mercy of that one individual. 

   The quiet streets and abandoned homes and businesses indicated that much of the population had left this planet at some point in the recent past.  Most likely, the ones who remained here did so because they had nowhere else to go.  They were desperate to survive their own desperate circumstances, and any one of them would be capable of turning Luke Skywalker in for a small profit, or for no reason at all.

   Luke wondered when the grim change had come to this place, and how it might be reversed... but he put those thoughts aside as he located the shop his last "contact" had directed him to.  If Luke was going to affect any change here, he would first have to find out just who this warlord was.

   Luke cautiously stepped inside the shop, and the teenage boy who was watching the counter perked up at the entrance of a potential customer. 

   "What'll ya need sir?" he asked eagerly.

   Luke slouched a bit as he crossed the room, walking slowly and deliberately. Then he stepped forward to lean his weight over the back of a chair before he intoned, "I'm looking for somebody." Luke's eyes measured the boy for a long moment.  While his alter ego was deciding if he should reveal his agenda just yet, Luke was reaching out to the Force. He could sense another person nearby, probably within earshot somewhere in back.

   With the casual air of a man used to relying on great sums of money, Luke pulled a collection of credits from his coat pocket and let the silence build for a moment before leaning in further toward the counter. 

   "Now, who do I need to talk to?"

   The boy's eyes had grown large watching the credits. Then, remembering himself, he quickly skittered off toward the back of the shop.

   Luke stood up straight again, watching the boy go. Then he turned to let his elbows rest casually on the counter top behind him, waiting. A few minutes later an unkept man with a suspicious gaze leaned through the back doorway to get a look at the stranger.

   Luke gave the newcomer another few heartbeats to look, before slowly turning to face him.  His eyes measured the lined and dirty face just as they had the boy's.  Then Luke stood waiting for the other man to break the silence.

   "So, stranger, you're in the market for information."

   Luke only nodded fractionally, cooly.

   "Follow me," the other man said, abruptly turning and walking out through the back of the shop.

~

   About an hour later Luke was beginning to feel as though he was attracting the right degree of attention (and parting with an adequate number of credits) to convince several of the locals that he was a wealthy entrepreneur who was looking to creatively invest a great deal of cash.  When two of those locals suggested getting a shuttle to take them down to one of Myrtle's small moons, Luke figured he was either about to get the break he had been hoping for or a small-time ambush.  Mixing just the right combination of professional distrust with self-interest, Luke managed to cajole them into letting him pilot his own ship down to the moon's surface. 

   R2-D2 beeped a question as Luke climbed up the entry ramp and keyed for its close behind him. 

   "No," Luke responded lightly, "luckily they trust me about as much as I trust them." Luke smiled as Artoo expressed his simultaneous relief and doubt. The little droid worried almost as much as his counterpart. "They want to go down to one of the moons – they say they'll take me to someone there who can help me."

   Artoo gave a hesitant warble, which made Luke smile again.

     "We'll follow them down; get the sublight systems up for me," Luke called as he headed into the cockpit. The droid would have to remain behind in the ready room. This model light freighter wasn't made to rely on an astromech unit, so a special socket had been designed for Artoo where he could secure himself for flight, and where he could interface directly with the ship's computer.

   Luke knew that the little droid didn't like being away from his master, and Luke had to admit that he also was feeling a certain longing for the simplicity of the old days. Then, all they had had to worry about was staying one step ahead of the TIE fighters... but things were different now. There was no more evil Empire to fight, only a collection of the former regime's supporters, and the warlord factions who were making a tidy profit supplying them. The faction that Luke was tracking controlled this rim system, just as hundreds of others controlled many more systems across the galaxy. In addition to selling weapons and ships for profit, the larger factions also consisted of elaborate networks for running huge illegal organizations, and this particular faction was estimated to be one of the largest in the galaxy; that meant that they controlled basically every aspect of life for the beings who lived here.

   Luke felt decidedly vulnerable as he stepped into the freighter's cockpit; he didn't trust his two guides, and he knew nothing about this moon they were taking him to. An X–Wing fighter would hardly have gone unnoticed for very long in this part of space, but he wished that the New Republic could had given him something a little smaller, slightly more maneuverable.  Luke realized grimly that he would have settled for something with a single seat cockpit, but it was his cover that dictated these things and not his preference.  Therefore, he found himself aboard a light freighter that had been painstakingly converted to a luxury yacht (The ship's fake ID had even dubbed it the Part and Parcel, to coincide with Luke's cover persona. Luke had no problem imagining that his eccentric and filthy rich alter ego would give his ship such a silly moniker.). Still, that empty copilot's seat proved something of a distraction to Luke, despite Artoo's loyal company

   There was a longer flurry of distressed beeps just as Luke strapped himself in.  He glanced at the ship's translator in response, but Luke already had an idea what this was about too. 

   "I know it's a long shot, but the trace on that encrypt we picked up at Mylar shows that this sector is where the orders are coming down from. It may be a part time base, or a meeting grounds, or just a relay station. Regardless, I've got to find its location and try to get an ID on whoever's in charge here so that Coruscant can have a shot at shutting them down."

   Luke smiled again as the little droid's response became more upbeat this time.

   "Thanks, Artoo, but you'll be of more use to me on board," Luke assured him, mentally amending that comparison to Threepio.  "Just keep a lookout, and be on guard in case anything unexpected comes up," he finished.

   The little droid chattered a quiet response as Luke lifted the ship off. They were headed toward Myrtle's nearest moon, which was actually a small, blue-green sister planet called Marnia.

~

   A short time later Luke and his two guides arrived at a shady cantina that strattled the edges of the spaceport and what looked to be an outpost town. In the back of his mind Luke remembered Han's confident appraisal that all information of value existed in such places.  The slight grin that came over him at that thought eased his own apprehension a little.

   He watched as his companions stepped away to enter a private discussion with a set of capable-looking alien guards who were standing at the doors. Splitting his attention between the impromptu conference and the small square around him, Luke took a quick survey of his immediate surroundings. 

   The cantina and several adjacent buildings formed a wall in front of him, and a small, decorative wooded area filled in the distance behind him. The small park was blocked off from the pedestrian street by a waist high wood-worked wall, also meant to be decorative. The Force assured him that there was no one hiding behind it, but there were several civilians weaving leisurely paths through the park beyond it.  Nothing there appeared to be threatening, but he had learned long ago not to rule out such possibilities on looks alone. 

   Luke slouched a little further into his nondescript clothing as one of the guards turned to look in his direction. Feigning the proper nervous intimidation, he quickly glanced to each side. While avoiding the larger creature's stare, Luke was able to finish assessing his surroundings: to his left, the stone-paved street turned away sharply about two blocks up, and the spaceport they had put down in was roughly twice that distance to his right. 

   Luke hesitantly returned his gaze to the guards. They were approaching him now, with the other two men trailing a respectful few steps behind.  Judging from the smug looks the guards wore, there would be a lot of questions to answer before he would get any further. 

   They did not get the chance, however.  Before the guards reached Luke, the noise of several loud voices – growing louder as they drew nearer – pulled everyone's attention away.  Luke's small group stood watching as a larger group of dangerous looking individuals emerged from an alleyway down the street and turned toward the cantina.

   Luke resisted his instinct to step into a defensive posture and instead kept himself in character, looking worriedly from the newcomers to the guards and then back to his two companions.  The latter were taking the new arrivals the hardest. They looked visibly frightened, and clearly wanted to be someplace else.  Picking up on that fact, one of the guards took a long step toward them.  They paled considerably in response.

   Luke looked back to the approaching group; they were now completely out in the open street, and he could count ten, maybe twelve men. The men varied in age and size but they all carried the look of small-time fringe mercenaries: ruthless, greedy, and dangerous.  And the motley crew was just realizing his presence. 

   "Hack, Govin, what's all this?"  A man standing slightly out in front of the others addressed the two guards.

   "Our two associates here," the larger guard explained, nodding to the two men who accompanied Luke, "think they've found somebody the Boss'd want to see.  We were just about to offer our opinion," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

   Closing the distance between them, the man who led the mercenaries looked Luke up and down.  Judging by his expression, the man was unimpressed by what he saw. "You're not from around these parts," he stated suspiciously, and threw a threatening glare at Luke's two guides.  "How'd you know to find the Boss here?"

   Suspicious agreements arose from the tighly packed group behind him.

   Luke took a cautious breath. "I asked a few questions, showed a few credits.  Seems common knowledge your boss is someone to see."  He hoped the mix of casual bravado and flattery would serve its purpose.

   The leader seemed to be considering Luke's words as the men behind him started to spread out. 

   Luke's guides had obviously seen enough at this point; they took off at a run before the men who were starting to surround them could get any closer.  A few members of the gang half-heartedly gave chase before they turned back to join their comrades in laughing at the cowardly display.  The two alien guards, Hack and Govin, also seemed to sense that their role here was drawing to a close.  They quietly moved back to their post outside the cantina's entrance, leaving Luke alone.

   A sinking feeling came over Luke as he scanned the circle of faces that was gradually moving to surround him.  He couldn't break his cover, and he also couldn't allow himself to be captured. Either of those things would compromise his identity and the mission.  Protecting the mission was his first concern, and it left him with very few options. A fight at these odds, without the use of his lightsaber or any other tactics dependent on the Force, would be very ugly.  Luke had to hope that he could talk his way out of this. 

   "Maybe." The leader's measuredly amused voice cut into Luke's thoughts. "But maybe you've got other plans while you're here, like picking up a little extra money."  Then the man's voice abruptly took on a more threatening tone. "Well, I got news for ya.  That reward is goin' to one'a us. So don't think you're gonna come in here and snatch it away."

   "Pracos is right!" Voices began to come unseen from the pack of mercenaries.  "He's just after Dare."

   "He just wants the reward," another tough voice echoed.

   "Wait a minute," Luke interrupted cautiously.  "I'm a businessman, not a bounty hunter.  I've never even heard of this, Dare."

   "Likely," another man challenged in sarcastic disbelief, "real likely. Well, no off-worlder is tak'n my reward."

   A loud chorus of agreement rang out, and with each passing second Luke saw his situation growing more perilous. A minute ago he had had a chance at reasoning with them, when they hadn't seen him as a threat.  Now they would refuse to believe anything he had to say.  He would be lucky to stall them, and luckier still to get himself out of this. 

   Luke glanced around the circle once more. 

   Too many for mind tricks.  What he needed was a distraction, and he didn't see any way to create one large enough to allow for his escape without giving himself away.  His mind was racing desperately for alternatives as the first of the men closed in, striking at him and pulling back.  They were playing with him, like a wild krayt would play with a trapped wamp rat. 

   Luke reached out to the Force. Letting it guide his defense, he shifted in turn to meet and block several successive feints.

   The men's amusement was fading now.  He could feel their minds turning serious.  Deadly.

   Luke took a deep breath, clearing his mind and preparing for the worst as two attackers came in at him from opposite sides. The first man took a swing at his head and Luke ducked to avoid it.  The second man connected from behind with a hard fist to Luke's rib cage. 

   The men cheered. Smelling an injury, they started to press in on him.

   Luke gathered himself, trying to watch all directions at once, trying to find a way out.

   Suddenly he felt a change, a shift in the Force around him.  A second later, one of the men cried out. "Look! That's Dare."

   "Get her!" Another yelled. 

   One side of the ring surrounding Luke fell away as the men rushed to meet their new target. 

   Luke caught a glimpse of the black-cloaked figure who was balanced on the wood-worked wall, unmoving, as the fighters rushed in. Precious seconds lapsed, as she waited. 

   She was stalling them, Luke realized numbly. Her delay was giving Luke the extra seconds he needed.  Quickly, he moved into action.  Grabbing the arm of one of the men nearest to him, Luke used his own hip as a pivot to throw the man to the ground. Another man took his place, and Luke, deep in the Force, concentrated on meeting each attack. 

   Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of motion as Dare broke from her stance. A pair of wicked sweeping kicks knocked the first two men backward and stopped the other's mad, forward rush.

   As her adversaries fell back in hesitation, Dare moved into action again.  In one dauntless motion, she launched herself off the wall; putting her body into a midair corkscrew twist, she was able to use her own momentum to take out several more attackers before rolling up into a standing guard position. 

   Again, she had taken the advantage, shifted the make up of the other side's attack and succeeded in keeping the greater numbers of her adversaries off balance and disadvantaged.  Luke could understand why this fighter gave these mercenaries such a hard time, but he still knew nothing about why they wanted her captured.  He stretched out with his emotions, letting a part of his mind extend beyond his present. He was trying to get a feel for his new ally, the fight they shared, and hopefully, to find a chance for escape. 

   They were holding their own for the moment.  Luke could sense Dare's calm focus on meeting each attack, and he could sense that she, too, was concerned about how they would find a way out. They were both aware that even though the danger was not immediate, the odds were still against them. The longer this went on the more suspectable they would become to fatigue and injury, and their adversaries would still outnumber them.  All were good reasons to cut this as short as they could. With that thought in mind, Luke started to steadily make his way toward Dare.  The hooded figure nodded slightly in his direction, and a few moments later they were fighting almost back to back.

   Luke dodged the onslaught of one charging attacker and sent a second down with a hard forearm. He saw the first man turn to rush back into the fight only to go down hard behind him, meeting with a side kick to the jaw.

   Luke started to edge their way east toward the spaceport, slowly moving the fight in that direction. That plan only worked for a few minutes before the leader of the mercenaries realized what Luke was trying to do.  He motioned for several of his men to back off and spread out their attack, threatening to surround their quarry again and cut off any chance of escape.

   Luke looked urgently to each side. A few of the men were down, but there were still too many for them to fight their way through. If they tried to make a break for it now, they would easily be captured.

   "If you've got any tricks up your sleeve, now would be a good time," came a clipped suggestion from a strained voice at his back. 

   She was right. Luke felt it.  He reached out to the Force, readying himself as the next attacker came at him. This time when Luke's physical blow connected, he used the Force to push the flailing recipient back into two other men, taking those three down and knocking over a fourth man beside them for good measure. For a few seconds there would be no opposition from that direction.  For those few seconds, they had a way out.

   "Now!" Luke yelled, breaking into a run through the gap.

   They ran hard down the open street.  Behind them, defeat turned into desperation for the men who had been outfought and outsmarted. One of them pulled out a weapon, firing wildly in anger. Another followed suit, with greater accuracy, despite their leader's frantic cry for cease-fire.

   "No. No!  She's got to be taken alive!"

   One of those shots came dangerously close to finding its mark, and Luke was sent tumbling for safe cover. The leader's command for cease-fire was still echoing in his ears as the ground rushed up under him, but Luke rolled to his feet safely inside one of the spaceport's open repair hangers. He quickly glanced back to see Dare holding cover for him with a weapon that she must have taken off one of the fallen mercenaries.

   "They're still coming," she reported tightly, ducking back inside the hanger.

   Luke scanned the surrounding area, getting his bearings and searching for the quickest way back to his ship.  "C'mon," he called abruptly, and started off at a run for the far hanger bay.

   The bay was still quiet when they arrived. Luke jammed the blast doors behind them while Dare rushed across to the hanger's main entrance. She ducked out, quickly checking their cover, then she raced across the open space to take up a watch position nearer to the ship.  Luke followed across a moment later and came to a stop behind her, glancing worriedly between the hanger bay's entrance and his ship.  He knew there wouldn't be much time before they found him. 

   "All clear," she announced, turning back to him.

   And for the first time he was able to see her face, underneath the hood.

   "You." Luke heard himself utter. 

   Blaster bolts broke the frozen moment. The mercenaries had arrived.

   "They've got reinforcements," Lara called tightly, immediately returning fire.

   Luke reached out with the Force to trigger the blast doors at hanger bay's entrance, cutting off the outside attack.  That meant Luke would have to blast his way out of the hanger once he could get his ship into the air, but that was something to worry about later; first he had to get the ship into the air before the mercenaries' fire could bring those blast doors down from the other side. 

   "That won't hold them for long," Luke said.  Lara Dare had turned back toward him after the blast doors had slammed shut, and Luke found that he had a hard time taking his eyes away from her face. That was the face he had thought he would never see again. The stranger he had thought he would never get a chance to speak to, now stood right in front of him, close enough to touch.... Luke shook himself loose from those thoughts and turned to the ship.  "Artoo, get her ready to fly," he called loudly. 

   "We don't have much time," Luke said under his breath, starting toward the ship. The astromech droid beeped urgently from somewhere inside. But Luke had hardly taken a step before he turned back, frowning.  Lara was standing unmoved, weapon at the ready, her shoulder still pressed to the cover of the hanger wall.

   Luke took a step toward her, to tell her that they must hurry, to offer her safe passage to anywhere she wanted to go – but he stopped short as he sensed the struggle within her.  She looked uneasily from the blast doors, to the ship, and finally back to him.

   The woman's small form barely moved beneath the flowing dark attire and the hooded cloak, worn to disguise her identity. And her face stayed unreadable – until she lifted her eyes to meet his.  Then Luke could clearly see the doubt and caution held there.  He realized in that moment that Lara was not the same person she had been two years ago; Luke recognized the painful, shell-shocked emptiness behind her eyes. 

   The blast doors started to give way under heavy fire from the other side, and the astromech droid's beeping grew more frantic in response. Clearly, the little droid could not understand what his master was waiting outside for. Still, Lara stood frozen. 

   "Now would be a good time to make an exit," Luke offered, the urgency of the situation underlying the quiet in his voice.  He stood silently beside his newfound ally, waiting, and wondering at the obvious depth of the conflict that held her in place.  She glanced once more between him and the failing blast door, the weight of that moment heavy on her. 

   Then, with a swiftness that caught him by surprise, she made her decision and had already broken for the ship.  Luke immediately reached out with the Force.  If he was going to be risking his life for this person, he wanted to know that she wasn't going to change her mind; he needed to know the strength of her resolve. His steps slowed to a cautious halt as they reached the ship's ramp.

   Lara paused as well, and turned back to him. "Thought you said we were going," she quipped easily, despite the heavy seriousness that remained in her eyes. Lara waved a hand in front of her for emphasis, waiting for Luke to go aboard his own ship.

   Across the hanger, the weakened blast door lurched partially open.

   Luke glanced in that direction as a few blast bolts were able to make it through the gap below the door.  They grazed the floor just inside the hanger, but could do no real damage – not yet.  He returned his gaze to Lara.  Luke could still sense a great deal of uncertainty in her, and he could see the grim, powerful seriousness that weighted her eyes. But strength had replaced the doubt and caution from a moment ago.  She was sure of her decision.

   "Right," Luke nodded, and he bounded up the ship's ramp in a quick couple of steps.  "Artoo?" he called. 

   The droid responded with what was clearly a scolding, mixed with his desire to get off world as fast as they could.   

   "Good," Luke murmured under his breath as he headed for the cockpit. "The ship's ready to go."

   "Your droid has an interesting way of expressing good news.  For a minute there, I thought we were going to be in trouble."

   "I might be in trouble with him, but the ship's fine," Luke explained as he dropped into the pilot's seat and began keying for lift off.

   Lara fixed him with a curious stare, and moved easily to take over the copilot's position.

~

   Luke took a deep breath as he eased the Part and Parcel into the safety of hyperspace. After the impressive show of ground force that had been set against the two of them, there had not been much in the way of air resistance. They had been able to get out of the system quickly thanks to a preset hyperspace jump which Artoo had accessed when he powered up the ship.  Tight scrapes like this one made Luke miss the dependability of his X-Wing, or even the familiarity of the notoriously unpredictable Millennium Falcon. 

   The converted freighter that Luke was currently piloting was a good ship, heavily modified by the New Republic to be up to what ever he would ask of it, but Luke still thought like a pilot.  No amount of technical jargon about scientifically proven special modifications could take the place of the kind of confidence that was earned by hours spent in the cockpit testing a ship's capabilities.... The knowledge that Artoo Detoo was monitoring the ship's every move and working constantly to make sure it was ready to give Luke what he needed meant far more to Luke any field test.

   "Artoo, pull up two more jumps on the nav for us, will you?  And check the ship for any homing or listening devices. We don't want to take any chances on being followed." 

   The droid responded with a short affirmative and a longer, hurt-sounding reproval.

   "Thank you, Artoo," Luke answered gingerly, grinning at the translation console. Then he looked over to Lara. "He'll be reminding me that I cut this one too close, for the next few days, at least," Luke said to her conspiratorially.  Then he paused. "He worries about me," Luke explained a little abashedly, as if he was talking about a dear family member, or an old friend.

   Lara only nodded, favoring the Jedi with an amused half smile.

   "Thank you for your help back there," he offered, then paused again. "Our friends, down below.  How much do you know about them?" 

   She looked at him for a moment, her expression curious again.  Perhaps she had been expecting him to go straight to more obvious questions, but she wasn't surprised by this line of questioning. From what she had seen on the planet, Luke Skywalker had been doing a through job of making himself out to look like any other inconspicuous mark; if had done any better, he might have gotten himself killed, or at least beaten to a pulp.  But the nondescript clothing and malingering disposition he had been hiding behind didn't fool her. Lara knew the man as a Jedi Knight, and she knew that he must have come here for a reason.  He had a mission to complete, and until it was completed any personal concerns he might have about her would fall by the wayside.

   She respected that, and he deserved a straight answer from her.  "They've been running this part of the galaxy since Endor.  Laus seems to consider me an asset to his organization." 

   Lara spared a tight smile at her own understatement, but Luke was more concerned about the brief flicker of emotion he had sensed from her at the menchon of Endor. He ignored it for the present. "Laus?" Luke asked. 

   "Waton Laus," she clarified, offering the name.  "From what I gather, he's in charge of this ravel with firepower." 

   Luke suppressed a grin at her assessment, but it faded as he sensed her mood fall.

   "But then, I've also been a bit out of touch," she finished, her voice trailing off.

   The nav beeped its ready mark, and the silence waited while Luke double checked the readings and made the second jump.  When he looked back to her, his eyes were quiet.

   "Can I ask... why you did what you did for me?"

   She took a deep breath, her sense changing subtly as she was tempted to skirt the question, and again as she considered how she should respond.  "It seemed important at the time," she answered him quietly, gently, and a little guardedly.  Then her voice took on a more conversational tone.  "How much do you already know?"

   "Mostly what Mara Jade has told me," he said slowly. This time Luke was watching her for a reaction, but he saw none. "She said that you were conscripted into the Empire – that Vader himself chose you as a second."

   Lara nodded only slightly, a distance creeping into her eyes as she remembered back to another lifetime. 

   "And Mara told me that for nearly six years, you made it your job to keep her from killing me."  Luke's voice was solid, but awe still came through in places. "Even after Vader died at Endor," he finished, and he watched her closely.  This time the menchon didn't show on her.

   Lara nodded again, more strongly, in acknowledgment. Then she sighed. "Why?" she repeated slowly, as if the word was new to her. "Maybe I needed to finish what I started.  Maybe I didn't want the Empire to end the Jedi.  Maybe I didn't want Mara to finish it." She stated each answer with the certain simplicity of a person attempting to choose between truths.  Finally she shrugged gently.  "It was important at the time," Lara decided again, offering him the same quiet truth and giving away little else.

   "And now?" Luke prompted, trying to look past the woman's cool and aloof demeanor.

   Lara smiled, almost begrudgingly.  "I'm glad that you aren't dead," she said evenly.

   The smile that had been playing on his lips died there as suddenly as her mood darkened. She was sincere, but for a second time he could see the shell-shocked hurt within her. He understood that it was her decision to stay with him then, that she was paying such high toll for now. 

   Luke looked back to the controls, feeling a heavy weight of guilt settle over his emotions. 

   "It was my decision," Lara stated measuredly. 

   He looked back to her slowly, and she met his gaze with a solid sense of defiance. Something about that look caused Mara's words about having respected this woman in spite of herself, to ring through him.

   "But you didn't know the cost would be so much," Luke stated honestly, heavily. 

   "My decision.  My cost." She answered softly.

   The nav's second ready alarm interrupted.  Luke nodded slightly and turned away to complete the last jump.

   "You still haven't told me where we're headed," Lara pointed out lightly. 

   "Sorry," Luke offered with a half grin.  "Coruscant," he said, turning back to the nav computer. "Unless you've got somewhere to stop first," he added as an afterthought.  Like it or not, Lara Dare had ended up playing a key part in this mission. Not only had she helped Luke to escape a very tight situation on Marnia, but she had also provided the missing piece of the puzzle that he needed to complete this mission, identifying for Luke the very person he had been trying to track down for the last several months.  Laus.  She would have to speak to the Senate Inner Council about what she knew.

   "You're serious," Lara said, her voice dripping in skeptic disbelief. 

   Luke looked back at her, puzzled. 

   "You'll be lucky if they let you in system with me aboard," she stated incredulously.  "Considering the level of internal espionage and political chicanery under Palpatine," she continued with a sympathetic snort, "I wouldn't want a high ranking Imperial within a three system radius if I was them.  That's not even taking into account that most of what I did was buried so far underground–" she broke off.

   Suddenly falling speechless, Lara only shook her head slightly.  "Well, Coruscant won't be extending the ceremonial pleasantries for me anytime soon." 

   Luke only smiled.  "You're not with the Empire any longer," he said simply. 

   Lara looked at him in disbelief. "I was in direct service to Darth Vader for most of four years, and I've got no solid explanation for the eight years since."

   Luke looked at her hard, trying to read through her defensiveness and the many layers of conflicting emotion that he could sense underlying it.

   "Did you choose to serve the Empire, of your own free will, under no duress?" he asked of her evenly. 

   Luke thought he saw her shudder at the question, but those powerful defenses held out, and the one-time Imperial agent held his gaze without flinching.

   "No," Lara answered, her voice barely a breath behind haunted eyes. 

   "And you have no loyalty to the Empire now?" Luke posed his next statement more strongly.

   She looked at him knowingly, a half nod pushing her chin forward as she answered.  "You know I haven't. It won't be enough," she added cautiously.

   Luke took a deep breath. He knew there was truth in what she said, but it didn't change his determination. "I won't force you to go back. But if it's what you choose, I'll stand with you."

   She looked away, out toward the stars that were still hanging in the cockpit's forward viewport. Then slowly, Lara took a deep breath and nodded her consent.  Her voice was determined when she spoke again. "Of my own free will, or otherwise, I've done what I've done.  I'll answer for it of my own free will."

   Without facing him again, she stood and turned to leave. Luke heard the cockpit door open behind him.

   "Lara–" he called without turning to face her.

   She stood in the doorway. 

   "What was the cost – my life?"

   He felt her wince as he breathed the last of his question, and Luke listened to his own heartbeat echo in the silence as he awaited her answer. 

   "I chose not to go home after Endor."  She paused for a moment, fighting to keep her emotions in check. "It had been four years. My family didn't know if I was alive or dead when Laus' men came for me."

   She stopped, and Luke could sense her searching for a way to speak the words through the silence. 

   "My parents and my brother were killed."

   Luke closed his eyes, physically and mentally reeling against the sick feeling in his stomach.

   He knew there were no words.

   So did she.  When he turned around she had already gone.

~

   Leia joined the anxious gathering of officials and civilians who had assembled to watch a small piece of history unfold before them.  She stood to one side of the old Imperial Palace's elaborate Grand Corridor, and waited for the two leaders to emerge from the small conference room that separated the Inner Council Chamber from the Main Senate Chambers.

   A few minutes later Mon Mothma stepped out into the Grand Corridor, followed closely by Senior Officer Pellaeon.  Two leaders, Leia thought to herself. Both evoked the truest sense of the word.  Both carried the weights of their positions with such poise and dignity that it would be difficult to identify by sight alone which one history would call the victor.

   Militarily, it was a fact. Imperial forces had surrendered after being outmaneuvered at Valava. Senior Officer Pellaeon, the recognized leader of those forces, had called for the cease fire himself and had hailed the New Republic to discuss the terms of his surrender. His place as the highest standing Imperial officer, and successor to the late Grand Admiral Thrawn, made that surrender the final military defeat of the former Empire.

   But even as she witnessed the ceremonial signing and handshakes, Leia knew that the reality of peace was something entirely different than what stood before her today. A military surrender was necessary, but it wasn't the solution; it was only a symbol.  This image would capture the hope of peace in this moment for generations to come, but it would not establish that peace for them.  There was still much to be decided. 

   There were many who held deep grudges against the Empire, and rightfully so. For some of them, the long-awaited prospect of peace pailed against more personal desires for retribution, or outright revenge, against those who had so heinously wronged them, and their peoples.   

   Leia took a long step away from the ceremony that was beginning to break up now. With new resolve, she headed into the Main Senate Chambers, where the process of establishing peace would begin in full.

~

   Wanton Laus disgustedly threw down the data pad he had been reading.

   "Peace," he grated the word.  He had been fuming since the news arrived.  Now this. He paced the room, stepping deliberately over his discarded datapad.  "Chaos come alive!"

   Some were honoring that coward Pellaeon's call for surrender.  Other valuable men and resources were being lost to the useless desire for death before surrender.  Either way, the waste sickened him. So much potential, lost to him, only because he had no way to focus it.

   Of course his agents still continued their activities, and most of them reported that the situation remained salvageable.  The climate at Tritis was still in his favor, as were the other considerable advances that he had made over the past few years.... They had been long years.  Laus had devoted so much time to building his presence and reputation, only to see his prize slip through his fingers at the very time when his foresight could have paid off the most. 

   This turn of events was intolerable. Someone would be made to pay. 

   There was a knock at the door.

   He stepped over the data pad again.  Purposely leaving that bearer of distasteful news where it lay, Laus returned to sit heavily in his chair. "Enter," he commanded, directing a hard stare toward the closed door.

   Two guards escorted Pracos into the room, giving him a final push toward the center.

   He tried to hang on to some shred of his former position by casting an offended stare back in their direction, but even the guards realized that Pracos' time as a man of position had passed. The sight would have been humorous to Laus if he weren't so furious. He waved the guards away, his eyes unwavering on the man in front of him. Then the door closed behind Pracos with a heavy clap. 

   "Do you have any idea how much your incompetence has cost me?" Laus asked icily.

   "Boss, there was nothing I could do. She fought through two dozen of my best men."   

   "Enough!" Laus bellowed, calculating the outburst. He had no patience for incompetence, and even less for its denial. But the irony of this man standing in front of him, so completely oblivious to his own fate, was enough to bring a tight smile to his hardened face.

   If Pracos hadn't had the good sense to be afraid before, he did now. He knew that smile, and he especially knew that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of it. 

   "Boss, please. Give me another chance.  I won't fail you again."

   "Is that so?" Laus asked, the barest hint of amused hope creeping into his voice.  This, at least, was more like what he expected.  "In that case, there may be something you can do to redeem yourself," he intoned, somewhere between disappointment and boredom.

   "Anything, Boss."  Pracos groveled.

   "Hack, Govin," Laus ordered.

   His two loyal body guards reentered the room. 

   "Take Pracos with you."  He waited a few moments to further impress his displeasure upon Pracos, and to remind the man of how short his life could still be, if Laus wished it. "I'm putting him on the mission." 

   He could see Pracos relax. "And Pracos–"  The man stiffed.  "I trust you'll serve me well."

   "Y– yes sir," Pracos stammered in relief.  "I will, Boss."  

   Laus had no further response than to motion them away impatiently.

   After a moment Laus stood and retrieved his data pad.  Carefully, he pulled a cartridge from his breast pocket and slid it in. He scanned the screen in silence for a few moments, then smiled to himself.  Sometimes a temporary setback was just the thing to open one's eyes to a new direction.  Yes, Pracos would be perfect for this mission. He would follow what ever orders he was given to the letter; he couldn't afford not to.  And once his part in the mission was done, he would be perfectly expendable.

   Laus was ready to make his next move. 

   "I'm not done yet," he decided.  "Not by a long shot."

~~ ~ () ~ ~~

   There were a lot of empty hours ahead between Marnia and Coruscant.  The first order of business for Luke had been to make contact. As standard procedure, he sent a coded message notifying Coruscant of his return and giving the proper, all-clear assurances: assurances that he was in no danger, that the mission had been completed, and that the conditions of his arrival were in no way urgent, or even unusual.

   He had decided not to report on his passenger until they arrived.  Luke wanted the chance to present her case to the Council himself, before planet's officials got a look at what ever records might exist on her.

   His mind wandered again to his unexpected ally, and to all that she brought with her.  Luke's first impression remained that she would make a strong ally, and a fearsome enemy. He already knew that she was a capable fighter and copilot, and that she was strong in the Force. He also knew that there was a lot under the surface, things that she was unwilling to reveal.  He could see it in what she said and in what she left unsaid, but mostly he could see it in her eyes, as if something vital had gone out of her.

   Mara had described her as having something that made her stand out, a certain depth of spirit. With a pang of sympathy, Luke wondered if losing her family had somehow taken from her what the Empire hadn't been able to break. Clearly she was still dealing with the grief of the loss. 

   She was decidedly guarded, but not to the point of being overtly defensive.  There was none of the biting sarcasm that had been Mara's trademark, and still was, Luke remembered with a smile.  Lara was every bit as straight to the point and no-nonsense as Mara, but she lacked Mara's tendency to fight out, making her much more self-contained. Almost as if that grief she was carrying, and her helplessness against it, had twisted her emotions tightly inside.

   All in all, he realized, Lara was very different from the hardened Imperial agent he had expected. Luke realized in retrospect that either from her association with Mara, or from only knowing her from Mara's perspective, he had somehow expected Lara to be like Mara in personality.  In some ways it was true, and she was everything that Mara had said: strong, smart, and fearlessly brave.  She was certainly no one to be underestimated.  Then in some ways, the two women were as different as their looks implied. 

   Mara's slim figure and cat-like grace had served her well under the guise of a dancer in Jabba's court.  Her fiery personality was matched by the shimmer of her red-gold hair and the sharp glint of her bright green eyes.  Lara, on the other hand, had calm, reflective blue eyes.  Looking into those eyes was like looking into a shimmering pool of water, but those waters ran deep with intensity and emotion, and loss.

   She had light brown eyebrows that curved around at a slight arch and set off the draw of her hairline. Bangs that were half a shade lighter escaped that draw to curl back over her forehead. Her face was finely set, with a small mouth held against a strong jaw, and her delicate features were defined more by the strands of hair that fell around her face than by the softly understated cheek bones that they fell along. The light hair was tied back at the nape of her neck, barely reaching below her shoulders, and a few shorter strands fell around her face only to be pushed back behind her ears.

   Lara could not be mistaken for a dancer. She had the balance and precision but was too definite in her motions, placing purpose and result well ahead of presentation.  She was a little shorter than Mara, standing not quite eye level with Luke, and the slight loss of height seemed to compact her figure.  It was an illusion created through the coiled physique of an athlete, strong from the disciplined effort put into the shoulders and arms, and legs as well, Luke would judge from the fighting style she heavily favored. 

   Though she had the natural beauty to pass in a superficial role, it would be hard to mistake her for that alone. Everything about her pointed to a level of dedication and intensity beyond the norm. Certainly, those qualities had made her an asset in her former life – an asset to Darth Vader, Luke realized anew. 

   There was so much he wanted to ask her.... But he remembered the far away look in her eyes when he had spoken about her time in the Empire, the way her sense had darkened at the thought of the loss it had brought her... and he was cautious.  He had no doubt that she was a person of great strength.  That only made the quiet determination with which she had agreed to return to Coruscant, more troubling.  Then there was the haunting way she had stood frozen at Marnia, as if she had been fighting some monumental battle deep inside.

   He hoped that Coruscant would be the right place for her. 

~

   Leia opened the suite door as quietly as possible and quickly glanced in toward the living area. She caught herself holding her breath as she keyed the door closed behind her, as if that would help it to make less noise.  As she had expected, Han was asleep, stretched out on the sofa. He probably lay down to rest for a minute after putting the twins to bed.  Now he was sleeping soundly.  Leia watched her husband sleep with a guilty smile, letting the moment stretch a little longer before she went to look in on Jacen and Jaina.

   She hated to think of how long it had been since she'd been here to see the twins fall asleep. Leia kissed them each and stepped back to stand in the doorway with a sigh. She heard Han's footsteps behind her just before he reached his arms around her waist.

   "Another late night, Sweetheart?"

   She turned to hug him, mumbling against his shoulder.  "There are other kinds?"

   After a moment he reached around her to close the door to the children's room. Han paused, smiling as he watched Leia crane her neck for one more glimpse of her sleeping children, then he guided her back to the living area. Leia retrieved her evening meal from the kitchen and sat across the table from Han to eat.  She felt exceedingly tired as she realized that this, too, had become routine.

   "I knew that it wouldn't happen overnight, but this is insane," she admitted.  "Peace, staring us in the face, and the Senate is divided. The Pellaeon Agreements have us at a standstill."

   "I thought he was offering unconditional surrender," Han objected suspiciously. 

   "He is; the Imperial surrender is a reality, regardless of how we resolve the rest of this.  But Pellaeon is asking for anonymity for his men, in return for his future cooperation.  That's the sticking point.  He also wants a moratorium on war crimes, and possible autonomy for the Tritis sector. That combination has emotions boiling over. A lot of beings are fighting real hard for the right to claim retribution for occupations, and to hold immediate trials for the offending high officials."

   "Doesn't sound so unreasonable to me." Han backed away from the statement as Leia raised her eyebrows in warning. "But not exactly the way to start off a peace process, I get it," he amended, and redirected.  "Any chance of those things happening?"

   "The moratorium may be a compromise, but there's no way we can allow a armed a sector of Imperial loyalists to build strength, no matter how far out on the rim they are.  That's just asking for trouble, and he knows it.  Pellaeon's just looking out for the men under him."

   Han rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair.

   "He believes in military tact and honor," Leia offered defensively.

   "Great.  An honorable Imperial," Han responded, less than convinced.

   "I wish the same could be said for the men he's trying so hard to defend.  We've got outpost surrenders at one side, and suicide attacks at the other – there's 'unconditional' for you," she intoned with a little of her husband's sarcasm.

   "And somewhere in the middle of all this, I'm sure the warlords are having a field day," Han added dryly. "Even in defeat, Pellaeon can't reunite the Remnants.  Doesn't exactly do wonders for the value of Pellaeon's future cooperation."

   "You should be a politician," Leia observed dryly.

   Han snorted in mock offence. "No way!" 

   "You read people better than anyone I know," she persisted in stating the truth.

   "Yeah," he responded with that lopsided smile of his, "but then if I disagree with 'em, I can't settle it with a blaster."

   She smiled as she shook her head at him. "That's that," Leia decided with good-natured finality.  "I married a scoundrel."

   Han only lifted his eyebrows in recognition of the back-handed complement, before going serious again.

   "Do we know for certain yet, that they're arming in the Tritis sector?" he asked her.

   "That's just one of the problems.  No one knows for sure.  From the best of Pellaeon's knowledge, no.  From our intelligence, it's highly probable. All we really know is that the population influx at Tritis has doubled since the call for surrender.  We just don't know what their intentions are. Are they there hoping for sanctuary, like Pellaeon believes, or are they there to try to regroup for some kind of offensive?" she questioned warily.

   "Sounds like Ackbar talking, intentions," Han intoned.  "What's his take on it?" he added the question without missing a beat

   "At this point, he just wants the quickest line to peace.  Right now a great deal of his forces are tied up in peacekeeping. Once we have a working agreement, a peace that the military doesn't have to actively enforce, then his hands are finally untied to reshuffle the military line and begin putting pressure on the warlord fractions."

   Han watched his wife's expression for a moment.  "What about you?  What do you want?"

   She took a deep breath, finding the question harder to answer than she would have expected.  "More than anything, I want peace. But it has got to be lasting peace, and I don't think we can get that through compromising with the loyalists."  Leia hesitated. "They've got to be held accountable. And then we've got to find a way to let it go, all of us."

   "Tall order," Han mumbled quietly.

   She met his eyes, waiting for his opinion.

   Han shrugged.  "This needs to be solved. Fast.  The factions are getting stronger every day, with such widespread networks that we can't get solid locations on them, even from Karrde's best people. And they're getting better armed all the time." 

   Han hesitated, looking cautiously to his wife. "Any news from Luke?"

   She shook her head.  "No.  Nothing since that report from one of Karrde's sources, placing him in system."

   "Mylar." Han remembered the name of the planet.

   Leia nodded, her eyes far away.  "We'll just have to take it as good news. Everything is normal."

   He could see through her calm front, enough to tell that Leia was worried.

   "It is," he reassured her. "On a mission like this, Luke won't risk a contact until he's on the way out.  He'll be okay, Sweetheart."  Han smiled.

   Leia smiled a little easier at her husband's reassurance.  "I know.  I'll just feel better when it's certain."

~~ ~ () ~ ~~

   Now well into the lengthy return from the outer systems, Luke had completed a few odd repairs and double checked most of the ship's systems more than once.  Still, long hours seemed to grow longer. 

   He and Lara had developed a comfortable, if not entirely open, rapport during the long trip. The questions that he had asked, she had answered honestly, with grace and with wit at times, but she remained decidedly aloof.  In return, Luke continued to give her plenty of space. 

~

   Lara looked out from the small repair shaft she was working in.  Ship's repairs were not her strong suit, but it was something to fill the time – or at least it would be, if she could keep her mind on it. The closer they got to Coruscant, the harder she found it to think clearly. There was nothing to do now but wait; it only added to her restlessness to know that her circumstances were getting under her skin this way.  She knew what she was getting into, and the decision was made now. She would accept whatever fate came for her.

   That part was clear. It was the reality of returning to Coruscant that Lara found herself dreading. It was a timeless sense of dread that rose up in her soul, set against the darkness of the past and the expectation of the unknown.... The waiting compacted it. 

   Lara tightened the last bolt back into place and stood.  Hurriedly, she put the tools she had been using away and headed back through the main corridor to the cockpit.

~

   Luke turned in his seat, greeting Lara with an easy smile as she entered the cockpit.  Lara sat down beside him in the copilot's seat, but she didn't immediately meet his eye. Her gaze automatically scanned the chronometer first, looking for their arrival projection.

   "I tackled that faulty gasket," she offered. "At least the ship will be running better than expected when you put down," she added dryly.

   "It should," Luke conceded in equally dry agreement. "We've rehabed everything right down to the extra hydospanners."

   "We're still on schedule?" she asked next, motioning to the chronometer.

   He nodded, giving further weight to the small talk before turning to face her.

   "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

   "No," she said quietly.  "Just the waiting, I don't like," she added with a small smile. "What about you? I can't imagine that bringing me to Coruscant will help your popularity at all."

   "Probably not," Luke conceded with a grin. "They won't be happy about my springing you on them, but they'll come around," he added.  Then he paused, carefully collecting his thoughts for a moment.

   "I know there is political maneuvering that exists within the Senate, and there are a lot of bad feelings that still run deep for the Empire, but I have faith in the Council."  His voice was serious as he weighed the situation, but there was also a deep confidence in him.  "Despite all that plagues them, there is a profound desire to serve, and an overriding concern to guard the ideals and insure the survival of the New Republic.  There is honor beneath the politics," Luke stated the quiet assurance.  "You can trust them," he concluded.

   Lara blinked at him, waiting. 

   When he didn't continue, she questioned him easily.  "Trust them to what end?  My appearance could come as a severe threat to that same sense of duty you admire," she pointed out the stark fact without apology.

   "I know," Luke admitted. "They'll treat you fairly," he amended his answer.

   She considered the explanation – the explanation and the faith behind it – before she gave him a slight nod. "Okay," she agreed, making the conscious decision to set down her own doubt and accept his confidence.  Lara couldn't be certain that it would turn out as Skywalker hoped, but she was remembering the depth of respect that she had once felt for him. For his sake, she hoped that the fallout over her appearance would be less harsh than she expected. ~@ ~ ~