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| - At that moment, it finally dawned on me who it was that we were being greeted by: the special response division of the local constabulary. Why it had not occurred to me that landing near a populated area would attract such attention was a puzzle that could wait until later; right now I had to figure out how we were going to get out of this with our skins intact. Though the minds of the dozen police officers that gazed at us were still shrouded, our proximity allowed me to glimpse tidbits of what went on underneath. Most of the cops leaked traces of fear and awe, intermixed with small doses of curiosity, but the woman closest was definitely more interested than she was afraid. On a hunch, I looked up and into her gaze, lowering all of my mental barriers. As if on cue, the lead officer holstered her own weapon and reached up to remove her helmet. Slowly she raised it, to reveal an azure-tinted visage whose hairless scalp was sculpted into six elegant ridges that ended in short, cartilaginous nubs. The inner two turned down, but the outer four poked upward, and where there would have been ears on a human, there were instead thick, fleshy folds of skin. Thin black brows and eyelashes marked the only trace of hair that I could see, and what looked like ritualistic markings, done in muted crimson, adorned the woman's face. Her human-like eyes were the most intense shade of green that I'd ever seen. She blinked rapidly for a few moments, then I felt the gentle caress of her awareness upon my mind as she inclined her head toward me. Gingerly she probed, and I subtly encouraged her, guiding her along as she sought out the truth of my intentions and those of my companions. After an age that passed in mere minutes, she finally withdrew her presence, looking back up at her companions and signaling them to follow her lead in putting away their weapons and doffing their helmets. “Burning stars...” Silas muttered under his breath. I was as astonished as he was. Every last member of our welcoming committee was also blue-skinned and ridge-scalped, and most of them bore different, yet similar, patterns on their faces. They were all definitely female as well, as indicated by their body armor, facial features, and the fluid grace with which they moved. "Myo setit," the leader said, the ghost of a smile playing across her purple lips. "Ghee'ja ke solei panau." "Translation: Wait here. The Elder has been summoned." — — — For a full hour we waited, riveted to the spot and standing at attention, for this mysterious Elder to arrive. The special response officers, augmented by another three carloads of reinforcements, had put up a containment area around our landing site that, to my eyes, seemed to be more for our protection than for the other natives. As they arrived I began to wonder if this species was a matriarchal one, since not one of the squad of new arrivals was male and neither were any of the civilians who had started to arrive on the scene. As we waited, the cops intermingled with one another, sharing impressions and speculations about the new arrivals in their own language. Our de facto ambassador, however, was content to simply stand there, her eyes drinking in our presences though she continuously wrinkled her nose at the assassin droid. The sun had begun to sink below the horizon when the Elder finally arrived, brought to the area in a white groundcar with a large, glass-enclosed rear compartment that allowed everyone to see its occupant. Like the rest of the natives we'd seen so far she was female, as were the three people who accompanied her, and she looked significantly older than anyone else present. Standing over two meters tall, her skin was more purplish; her face and scalp were slightly wrinkled, her cheeks were somewhat hollow, and the area around her eyes was significantly darker. She wore a flowing robe of mauve that was embroidered liberally and elaborately with golden thread, along with a similarly-colored and -styled headdress; this ensemble was echoed by what appeared to be her retainers, though their outfits were less ostentatious. The groundcar was ushered through the cordon, where it stopped about fifty meters from the shuttle's exit ramp. When it stopped the Elder rose from her throne-like seat, and the officer who remained beside us strode quickly up to it and began speaking rapidly to the driver, who in turn jabbered something to the third occupant. A hatch on the rear of the vehicle opened and the Elder, walking with a regal air that did not appear haughty or arrogant, exited it and approached us, accompanied by the crimson-marked officer. Even at this distance, I could feel the power within her, and it became readily apparent that she was strong in the Force—as had been the woman who had first made contact with us. Suddenly I became aware of the fact that every native possessed varying degrees of affinity; indeed, none of them were below what I would have imagined to be the threshold required for Jedi training. "I bid you welcome to T'lessia, Starborne One," the Elder said in flawless Basic as she sketched a small bow. Her tone was quite warm and pleasant, and her accent was Coruscanti in nature. "I am Eldarch Bellinega T'Ledra, and your arrival has been greatly anticipated—and feared." "Thank you, Eldarch," I said, bowing low in reply to her gesture. "My name is Laera Reyolé, my companion is Silas Dan'kre, and the android behind me is called HK-47." "Laera Reyolé," Bellinega said, mulling over the sounds. "The Blue is strong within you, yet you are not blue, and your companions are strangely...colorless. Is that the right word?" "I do not know," I replied honestly, still utterly nonplussed at how the being before me could possibly have come to possess a Coruscanti accent. I did have a hunch, however, that "the Blue" of which she spoke was the name given to their concept of the Force, or perhaps its purer side. "We are strangers to this world, and we do not know how you come to know our language." "It was a gift to us from the Blue," the Eldarch explained. "Given over four thousand years ago, it has been maintained by my order ever since, in anticipation of the Starborne One who would either bring us to glory, or bring about our destruction." "Forgive me, Eldarch, but I still do not understand," Silas asked as he offered her an apologetic sort of bow. "According to our droid, who seems to know a bit of your language, the officer here said that an Elder was coming. Yet you call yourself 'Eldarch.' We assumed that she meant a city leader, but you are clearly something different." Bellinega smiled and nodded. "A mistranslation, most likely. 'Ghee'ja' is our word for my title—there is no direct translation, however, but it is similar enough to our word for 'mayor' or 'governor.' I am a Master of the Blue, and I teach others in its ways and means, helping them to explore it within themselves." "I see," Silas replied. "Eldarch, is 'the Blue' your term for 'the Force?'" I asked. "That is to say, do you comprehend it as an energy that connects all living and nonliving things throughout the universe, an energy that can be called upon and manipulated?" "You are indeed wise, Starborne One, as the prophecy foretold," she murmered with a satisfied nod. "That is precisely the core truth of the Blue. Tell me, did you deduce this from our appearance, or were you able to read it in our souls?" "The former, I'm afraid," I replied with a small hint of trepidation, but then another piece fell into place. "Your people...I can feel their connection to the Blue—it seems to be as natural to your species as breathing—but your minds are shrouded. It is as though you have learned to shelter yourselves from outside intrusion." The Eldarch nodded, the smile on her face becoming more ethereal. "Your reasoning is sound, Starborne One, as is your insight. We are all borne of the Blue, we feel its presence, and the 'shroud' as you call it is our own way of keeping ourselves separate, of maintaining our individuality and privacy. But we can raise this shroud in order to commune with those who we trust and consider friends." Bellinega began to pace before us, holding her chin in her hand as though carefully considering her next words. When she spoke again, her voice was pensive, concerned. "But since the prophecy and the gift of your language, the Sa'ari have become an insular people. Many of us fear what your arrival will bring, while others maintain hope that the tidings you offer will be good. If fear is allowed to consume us, if it carries the day, than the suffering that has been foretold will come to pass, with no chance for us to experience what the rest of the universe has to offer." The Eldarch's words caused my flesh to pucker beneath my armor. She must have noticed this, for she cast a concerned gaze upon me as I contemplated what all this meant. Her words were sincere, that much was plain, but they were also colored by a fervent desire to protect her people. I could sense that she herself was aware of this, indeed her anxiety was almost palpable. It was a feeling to which I could sympathize. "You fear that fear," I said, extending a hand toward the Eldarch. "I don't know if your people have a concept similar to the dark side, but fear is a key component of it." "We call it 'the blackness,'" the Eldarch replied dolefully. "It has covered parts of our world before, when groups of us seek to conquer and subjugate others, but always the light of the Blue returns to burn it away." She paused for a moment, then cast her gaze toward the cordon of constables before taking in the three of us once again. "You must come with me to my order's keeping, so that you may learn more of us and, the Blue willing, teach us how not to fear." "I cannot teach you to not fear," I said truthfully. "Fear is as natural an emotion as love or compassion. However, I can help you to prevent that fear from controlling you." "Spoken like my own mentor," Bellinega replied, bowing slightly. "Will you help us, then? Will you fulfill the promise of the prophecy and bring my people to glory?" I looked toward Silas, seeking his approval. He didn't like the idea; his aura sparked with suspicion and uncertainty, but he also trusted me to do what was right. His nod was all the assent I needed. "Yes, Eldarch, I will do my best." — — — Luke had listened intently to Laera as she recounted the tale of her first contact with the Sa'ari, and how she had met with their Eldarch. When she finished describing having left the scene of their landing with Bellinega and the policewoman who had first greeted them, she paused, glanced at the Bothan intelligence officer, then stood. "Can we offer you some lunch, Luke?" she asked politely. "Yes, thank you," he replied, sensing that it would be a good idea to take a break from a morning full of storytelling. "So, what are your impressions thus far, Jedi Skywalker?" Dan'kre asked as he joined the woman in preparing salt-meat and lettuce sandwiches. "You seem to have made the most of a bad situation," Ben answered with a shrug. "Dad and I might have done the same thing—actually, we did do the same thing, but we ran into you two instead." "The most interesting part is yet to come, my young friend," the Bothan replied with a rueful smirk. "What did you, as the only non-Force sensitive on this world, do while you were under the Eldarch's care?" Luke inquired. "Oh, I managed," Silas replied as he served lunch. "You'd be surprised what a Bothan can learn when he is bored and left to his own devices. And what I learned turned out to be quite a help when it was time for us to leave." "Oh, don't spoil it for them, Silas!" Laera put in, patting the Bothan's shoulder as she sat across from Luke. "Let's not worry about that for now anyway, I'm ravenous." For the next half-hour the four of them ate their lunch, quietly enjoying the sandwiches as each contemplated their circumstances. Ben was beginning to appreciate everything that had gone into the construction of this hideout, wondering how the older woman had applied the Force to light the candles the previous evening, as well as how she'd managed to keep the tree alive despite having put such a large dent into its bole. His eyes fell upon the alcove where the hosts had placed their weapons as he finished the last of his lunch; after catching a peculiar flicker of the Force, he turned his gaze toward Laera. "Your lightsaber, why don't you wear it?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Not much call for it," she replied, swallowing the last of her own meal. "It's dead useful, don't get me wrong, but taking it out just draws attention. We don't need it to hunt, and I prefer using hand-tools when any construction or repair work is to be done. Well, except when we first carved out Little Agamar." She seemed to consider the younger Skywalker for a moment, then leaned back against the wall. "For us it's been only about nine months or so since we escaped the battle over Ord Mantell," she began again, her voice lowering as she assumed a mournful expression. "But for you, it's been four thousand years. I almost hate to ask, but what is the real Agamar like now?" "I suppose that depends on who you ask," Luke replied solemnly. "A lot has happened in the millennia since you disappeared." "Just give us an overview for now," Silas said. "We can save the detailed histories for when we get back to civilization." "Well, from what we know of that time period," Luke began with a nod, "Revan's efforts were sufficient to hold the true Sith Empire back for about three centuries. But like a persistent weed, the dark side keeps coming back. The Republic continued to endure, however, despite a long series of intermittent conflicts and full-scale galactic wars. Perhaps the worst, which took place during what we now call the Draggulch Period, finally came to a head about a thousand years ago. After the defeat of the Brotherhood of Darkness, the Ruusan Reformation was adopted, and the Republic's military forces were abolished in favor of the Judicial Department. The Jedi Order was put under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Senate, and assumed the role of a peacekeeping force that became increasingly involved in the day-to-day politics of the galaxy..." His voice trailed off as he caught the looks of utter horror that had sprouted on the faces of Laera and Silas. "The Marine Corps...they dissolved it, too?" the Bothan asked, blank shock evident in his voice. "They did," Luke replied grimly. "Most of those who were in active service at the time refused to join the Judicials, instead deserting en masse, with the various battalions and companies forming freelance mercenary bands. The vast majority of these units retained their core values, near as we can tell, but a few got involved with the Hutts and other crime syndicates. For a time, the Republic secretly paid the 'good' mercs to serve as a foil for the 'bad' ones." "Breaking up the Corps..." Laera began, but her voice broke. "Skywalker, I'm certain now more than ever that the Republic fell because they got rid of the Marines." "I wish it were that simple," Luke said sympathetically. "The Republic began its fall with a man named Palpatine, who after becoming the Senator of Naboo, began to manipulate the galaxy into a state of civil war, with himself as the secret mastermind of a secessionist movement that prompted his election to the office of Supreme Chancellor. From there he ignited the Clone Wars, drawing the Jedi into conflict where they could be betrayed by the clone armies that his minions had ensured would be ready by the time hostilities had begun. The Great Jedi Purge that followed Palpatine's transformation of the Republic into the Galactic Empire was even more thorough than the pogrom which Darths Nihilus, Sion, and Traya had initiated." "Luke, I know the Corps," Laera replied, her voice once again edged in durasteel. "We would never have stood by and let this Palpatine character get away with declaring an empire. We stand for honor, justice, loyalty and civilization, and we would have immediately formed the core of an armed resistance movement to restore the Republic to its rightful state." Silas nodded in fervent agreement. "Tyranny is for lesser beings, those who cannot fathom what it is to be a thinking, independent person." "And we would have welcomed any and all Jedi on the run," Laera added. "Don't worry, Ms. Reyolé," Ben replied. "Palpatine's empire is dead, Dad played a large part in seeing to that, as well as the restoration of the Jedi Order." The small hideaway fell quiet as the hosts contemplated this statement. Laera was looking at Luke as though she was finally seeing him for who he truly was; Silas was chewing on one of his fingers, lost in thought. "Sloppy," she finally spat, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Stupid, stunted, and sloppy. At the risk of being a bad host, Luke, I have to say it seems to me that your Order is but a shell of the organization that I once knew. The Jedi should have never, under any circumstances, subjugated themselves to any one government—if your 'rekindled' Order has done the same, then shame on you." "What do you mean?" Luke asked, brow raised in confusion. — — — "Your thoughts betray you, Skywalker!" I barked, and I was pleased to see him visibly blanch. It was only for a moment, and then he managed to return to that state of implacable calm that had always annoyed me about certain Jedi Masters, but I knew at that moment that I had him pegged like a crippled kath hound. He might be the Grand High Master or whatever title he'd given himself, but at that moment I was willing to bet that I could beat his rump to the deck in a duel, whether it be in training or in actual combat. "You want to know what's wrong with your Order?" I asked roughly, reverting to the drill instructor persona I'd used aboard Vibrosword. "Sure, I'll tell you. Your people lack discipline, real mental discipline. You put up a brave front, but right now I can see your mind as clearly as a datapad—the Force blessed me with a special affinity for such things. It was your nephew that killed your wife, and you know why? Because you'd refused to see where he was heading, even though the signs were there long beforehand. Now I understand why the Order of my day prohibited Jedi families; you can't see what's right in front of your nose because you're too used to the bonds that such ties forge. Shall I go on, or do you want to prove me wrong?" Luke's face was still impassive, but his aura betrayed the fascinated horror and utter confusion that was roiling throughout his mind. I decided to up the ante by taking advantage of his lapse in concentration by implanting within his consciousness a vision of myself as Mara Jade Skywalker, forcing him to work to push me out even as he attempted to deal with the fact that I now knew more about him and his life than he had ever wanted me to. "Yes, try to push me out of your head," I continued remorselessly, focusing further on the mental assault while he tried desperately to understand just how I was doing it. "Keep at it, you're doing great so far. After all, Jacen Solo fooled you for so long, didn't he? I'd have killed him as soon as he'd killed Nelani Dinn; he would have reeked of the deed, but your nose was too clogged up to smell it. C'mon, push me out, do some real work for a change, Mister Jedi Master!" I stood up at that point, and put everything I had into messing with the man's head, vulnerable as it was, and pulling every intimate detail from his past that I could. He needed a kick in the pants, an encounter with someone just as strong as he was, who was unafraid of him or his legacy. "You're not a Jedi Master," I continued contemptuously. "You're not even a real Knight. I've been at it for only five years, but before that I was a Marine, forged in the crucible of training and tempered by the fires of battle and war. For twenty-two years I saw things that would make you run in terror. You think I'm wrong? Then push me out!" "You're awfully brave and self-righteous," the younger Skywalker interjected angrily, getting to his feet. "Good thing you never made a mistake in your life!" "Oh, I've made plenty," I replied with a scowl, casting a glance back at him. "Like taking on a bunch of Mandalorian mercs unarmed; I nearly got my head caved in for that." "Well they obviously didn't hit your sense of superiority, or knock that chip off of your shoulder!" "Your father needs this," I replied adamantly. "He needs to face his demons and put them to rest, instead of trying to find reasons for everything." "It's all right, Ben," Luke ground out as he fought to regain control and battle against my constant probing. "Things were different in her time—she has certain expectations of the Jedi Order that we don't live up to now. But there were reasons for what happened...Jacen was manipulated by Lumiya..." "Do you really believe that this is about expectations, Skywalker?" I replied hotly. "Four years or four thousand, it makes no difference; the Force is the Force! And speaking of Lumiya, you should have killed that witch long beforehand. People like her—and I know all about her now—they're a blight upon the universe. If allowed to live, they'll only cause more harm, sow more chaos, no matter where they go. If you couldn't hunt her down yourself, then you damned well should have gotten someone else to do it. Evil must be opposed, openly and without fear, and you did a lot less of that than you and your son claim." "That's not true," Ben replied defensively. "We've battled the dark side whenever it emerged, and Dad has personally taught some of the best Jedi of this age." "If that's true, then how do you explain Daala?" I continued. "How in the name of the Force did you let a self-deluded madwoman become head of your precious Galactic Alliance? And now she wants to exert yet more control over the Jedi than you've already let yourselves be party to! How can you expect the Order to fight injustice and preserve peace if they have to go through a galactic bureaucracy first? And don't get me started about your actions during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion!" "How...do you know...about that?" Luke struggled to reply. "Skywalker, right now I can tell you the exact number of womp rats you shot while flying your precious T-16! Do you want to know why you're not able to push me out? It's not because of my unique talent, it's not even because you've never been subjected to this kind of attack. It's because you're soft. You idolize Revan and rightfully so, because at least he could keep me out." "Laera, aren't you taking this a little far?" Silas asked in an undertone, leaning in close as he too rose up from the floor. "I'm angry that the Marine Corps is gone as well, but you're pushing the bounds of decency here." "I know what I'm doing," I replied. "He's been looking for answers in all the wrong places, and until he figures that out, he's of no use to us or to his Order." I turned back to regard the elder Skywalker, who had finally managed to stand. "Work it out, Luke!" I roared. "I could keep you trapped in your own mind for days if I wanted to, but we don't have the time! Not if you ever want to see the Alliance again..."
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