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| - My heart froze in my chest at the stranger's words. A cyclone of emotions swirled throughout my consciousness. It was bad enough that Revan was sending me messages from the Great Beyond, but to have been out of it for four thousand years? It was impossible, surely—it felt like only a few months had passed since our escape from the battle over Ord Mantell. Our escape, which had been a near thing, that had stranded us on this unknown dirtball. But even as Skywalker said the words, I knew that they were true, and there was no use even denying it. I glanced over at Silas, and the fleeting look he offered made it quite clear that he had an idea how this could have happened. Our hyperdrive systems must have been very badly damaged indeed. Something still bothered me, though, about how the elder Jedi spoke of Revan. This stranger, this...Skywalker, seemed to think that the man had been a hero; I didn't need the Force to spot the subtle tone of reverence in his voice. In fact, there seemed to be an ingrained undercurrent of idealism throughout his consciousness, despite the emotional scars that floated on his bright sand-colored aura like flotsam from a shipwreck. Nothing I knew about the Dark Lord suggested that redemption was even possible, but even as my passions raged at how the universe seemed to be throwing us about like a leaf on the breeze, the more logical part of my mind admitted that a lot could have happened in the intervening time. If nothing else, these new arrivals with their intact starship offered a way out for us, and I wanted the chance to be with Silas on a civilized world. "You mean 'Darth' Revan, don't you?" I finally replied, making the Sithspawned honorific into a curse. "That scum...last I knew, he was comatose and being carted back to the Republic in an assault lander." "Yes, I do," Luke replied, still in that annoying voice of hero worship. "That last mission you conducted, it was the key to his redemption, to the end of the war you were fighting." "He was redeemed?" Silas asked, a dubious glint in his eye. "It's a bit more complicated than that," the elder Skywalker began. "How fortuitous for us," Silas retorted mockingly. "Laera and I happen to love long, complicated stories." "I'll make you a deal," I added. "You tell us what's been happening in the rest of the galaxy, and we'll tell you about this planet." "Agreed." For a full hour, Skywalker told us what he knew about Darth Revan's redemption. Beginning with the destruction of the Endar Spire over Taris and continuing through the end of the war at a place called Rakata Prime and beyond, he told what he obviously thought to be a thrilling tale of courageous beings, acts of atrocities, intrigue, self-sacrifice, and the power of love. Though my jaded mind was skeptical of some bits, most of what the man had to say rang true, even through the distortion of the ages. When Luke revealed the duplicity of the Jedi Council in how they had mind-wiped Revan, however, I was dumbfounded; though I could see it logically, it was difficult to accept that these people of supreme compassion would inflict such a barbarous act upon a fellow sentient. It was clear, however, that Skywalker thought that while this undertaking had played out to the galaxy's benefit in the end, it wasn't because of them, but of Revan himself. In spite of my earlier feelings, I suddenly found myself wanting to go back to the visitors' ship and retrieve that message. But Luke's tale didn't stop there. He continued to recall the history of the Order after the war, including what he called "the First Jedi Purge" and the tales of a person whom he referred to as "a Jedi Exile." "Hold it a moment," I said, raising a hand to interrupt his testimony of what happened at a fuel mining facility and depot at Peragus II. "This 'Jedi Exile' you refer to, who was she?" "We don't know," the younger Skywalker replied. "Our records of that era are sketchy, a lot was lost when the enclave on Dantooine was sacked." Once again, my heart pulsed with grief. To remember a place where one's life is significantly altered, for better or worse, is a treasure. But to learn that such a place had been destroyed...all those children...all those friends. I thought of Aewa, of Belaya and Juhani, of Dak Vesser, and bore a silent prayer for them unto the Force. "Perhaps...perhaps you could describe her?" I managed to say. I could sense Luke suppressing a shrug. "Red hair, fair skin, blue almond-shaped eyes, about one point seven meters tall..." My eyes flashed and my heart swelled with pride as I shot a triumphant smirk at Silas. "Your 'Jedi Exile' is none other than Vima Sunrider." Predictably, it was the visitors' turn to look shocked. "You are certain?" Luke asked. "We still lack data of her eventual fate, only that she was one of the greatest Jedi of her age..." "You mean my age," I said, still smirking. "Yes, I knew Vima very well. We both fought against the Mandalorians, and because of that, the Order kicked her out. I suppose your datafiles left that inconvenient fact out too, eh?" "Perhaps if you were to finish Vima's tale for us?" Silas put in, hoping to head off an argument. He didn't need the grateful pat on his arm that I gave him to know that I appreciated his efforts, but I offered it anyway. The elder Skywalker nodded, and continued his commentary. He spoke of Vima visiting Telos IV, as it was being rebuilt by the Republic, then of her search for several "lost" Jedi Masters at the behest of Atris, the Jedi Historian (whom I had met once, at my Knighting ceremony on Coruscant—she had seemed rather distant and standoffish to me, and I told Luke that). During this time Vima had, apparently, been responsible for the restoration of the Jedi Order itself, as it had nearly been wiped out by the predations of a new brand of Sith. As the story continued, I felt a mixture of emotions: sorrow at not having had the chance to meet her again; pride that the one Jedi I had trusted during the Mandalorian Wars had in fact returned to the Republic and played an instrumental part in saving it; and awe at how she had left everything behind to follow Revan and pursue an unknown threat. "So now you know what we know about Revan," Luke finished. "And you have enlightened us in turn about Vima Sunrider." "Happy to be of service," I remarked dully as Silas nodded grimly. "Before I hold up my end of the bargain, however, I need to know what you know of me, and of my companion." "Silas Dan'kre, Republic Intelligence," my love introduced himself. "Though I expect that designation will mean little to whatever government is in power now." "Pleased to make your acquaintance," Luke replied as we exchanged handshakes. "What we know about you, personally, Laera, is that you were once a career soldier in the Republic Marines who trained to become a Jedi Knight. You served with distinction during the Mandalorian Wars and Jedi Civil War, disappearing in 3,956 BBY—that's years before the Battle of Yavin—after the successful capture of Darth Revan. Your homeworld was Agamar, and you trained at the Dantooine enclave under Jedi Master Vrook Lamar. That's pretty much all we know." I shot another quick glance at Silas, then turned back to the Skywalkers. "Nothing about my other untimely demise?" "I'm afraid not," Luke replied, his brow raised. I sighed deeply. "It's getting late, we should continue this in the morning. Silas and I can kip on the branch above." "No, that's alright," the younger Skywalker said pointedly. "Dad and I wouldn't dream of putting you out of your home. Right, Dad?" "No, of course not," the father replied, momentarily nonplussed. "We'll take a branch further up." “Mind the dragonflies,” I said as they stood up. “They can grow to at least a meter across, and they like to nibble on exposed fingers and toes!” Seemingly oblivious to my warning the two Jedi left, their cloaks snapping in the stiff breeze. — — — I tried to relax my beating heart and get to sleep as quickly as possible, but my psyche was too wound up to rest. Silas seemed to be of the same mindset. On most nights when we weren't otherwise engaged he would doze off right away, but tonight his hammock, the lower of the two we had woven into what we had affectionately dubbed "Little Agamar," was still creaking with movement. "You alright, love?" I finally asked, unable to take it any longer. "I'm well enough, Laera," he replied with a sigh. "It's you I'm worried about. These clowns came right out of the blue and dropped a ton of permacrete on your head." "I know, my heart's still racing. And don't forget, they dropped just as much on you." "A fair point, but I've not been through a fraction of what you've had shoveled into your life. So, do you believe what they're saying? That we've been out of it for four thousand years?" "It's not about believing, Silas, it's true," I replied mournfully. "They're Jedi through-and-through, they're not supposed to lie. While this Luke person may be extremely strong in the Force, I'm no slouch either. Besides, you're the pilot. You knew, just as I did, there was something bad about that jump, and we certainly didn't make it to Agamar." "You are correct," Silas said, his tone pensive. "I shudder to think what the locals would have gone out into the galaxy to do if the hyperdrive hadn't been melted into slag." "All that we knew, though, is gone," I said, then rolled out of my hammock to join Silas in his. The Bothan's fur against my bare flesh was comforting, and we luxuriated in each others' embrace. "We're a pair of antiques now." "Yes, but we're high-quality antiques," Silas countered playfully. "You're practically worth your weight in aurodium." "Oh Silas, you always did know how to cheer a girl up." I was on the terminator line of slumber when he popped the question. “Laera?” “Not tonight, Silas,” I admonished sleepily, speaking into his shoulder. “We've got a lot of storytelling to do in the morning.” “Not what I meant.” “Then what?” “Why are we still out here?” I took a few moments to mull that cheerful thought over; it was a fair question, and one that had been rattling through my skull on and off for the last dozen day cycles. “Reinforcements, dear,” I finally said, which seemed to satisfy our mutual curiosity. For the time being, at least. — — — "I gotta say, Dad, you really have a way with people," Ben remarked as he and Luke reached the crook of the next higher branch, which was just as massive as the one they'd climbed up from. Ben slung himself out of his heavy pack and began to rummage through it for some food; finding a pair of ration packs, he handed one to his father as he tore open the outer packaging of the other. "What was your assessment of their reaction?" Luke countered, accepting the packet after sloughing his own burden. Wedging himself into a comfortable spot, he drew himself into a meditative pose as a large insect buzzed through the canopy overhead. "Judging from the fact that they didn't send us flying out of their little hidey-hole, I'd say it went about as well as we could hope for." "My sentiments exactly." "Still, there's something about this Reyolé person that's troubling," Ben muttered after he'd found a bit of branch for himself, nipping at his snack. "Aside from the fact that she's got as much power in the Force as half of those on the Masters' Council, she and that Bothan of hers are awfully close." "You felt it, too?" Luke asked. "Dad, a blind mynock could have seen it. They're in love." The younger Skywalker turned to his father, a knowing look on his face. "And that's not the most interesting thing I observed." "Ben..." "Dad, when was the last time you spent three nights in a row neck-deep in ancient Jedi history?" "If you're trying to suggest that—" "Think about it!" Ben hissed. "I saw the partial personnel file that Master Solusar was able to dig up. Captain Reyolé was never married, and it's clear from her documented exploits and her sense in the Force that she has a lot in common with Mom. She even looks vaguely like her, if you don't count the difference in hair and eye color." "You know it's not like that," Luke said, his tone a warning. "I'm not saying you fancy her or anything, Dad," Ben said bracingly. "I just think you need to be on your guard. Don't let yourself get caught up in the quest for knowledge. Either of the ancient Jedi, or this planet's inhabitants." The sounds of a forest at night filled the air as father and son pondered what had gone on in the hovel below. Nocturnal birds hooted and screeched, large insectoids flitted about, and small ground-dwelling mammals scampered to and fro far below. Finally, Luke blew a sigh. "You're right. Maybe retelling the tales of Revan and the Exile—" "Vima Sunrider now, remember?" "—the tales of Revan and Vima, maybe it got to me a bit. But beyond that, I'm worried about them. How would you feel if you'd been thrust four millennia into the future?" "Yeah, I see your point. They've got a lot of catch-up learning to do." Luke nodded his agreement. "On a different note, did you pick up on how they spoke of the native population?" Even in the darkness, Ben's expression of concern was palpable. "Yes, and it was a bit disturbing. What did you sense?" "We have no idea what the native sentients are like," Luke began, rubbing his jawline, "They don't seem to fear them, exactly, more like an elevated sense of caution brought on by experience. There could very well be aspects of Laera and Silas's dealings with them that have caused ill feelings; perhaps first contact didn't go so well." "What a cheerful thought to go to sleep on, eh Dad?" "Quite." — — — The dawn's light filtering through the leaves and into our home brought me back to consciousness, and I gently rubbed my nose against Silas's neck to rouse him as well. I didn't really want to leave the comfort of his arms, but we had guests to entertain, and it wouldn't be good for them to come down expecting a story, only to see us clad in nothing but our well-worn undergarments. It was obvious to me that they'd picked up on the cues, but it wasn't really a concern; the one called Luke admitted that, apparently, the Jedi Order of his day didn't give a whit about personal attachments. As I hitched up the loose plek'kak wool tunic I'd acquired from a fur trader, the sheer enormity of what the Skywalkers represented finally dawned on me. Silas seemed to have realized it at that moment as well, because even as he extricated a bundle of berries for breakfast, his eyes locked onto mine, and we exchanged horrified looks. "Four millennia..." I whispered, leaning against the weapons alcove. "It seems so trite on the surface, doesn't it?" an awestruck Silas replied. "It's too bad they've got the HK unit," I said. "It would have been able to access the HoloNet and verify everything in a trice." "I doubt it," Silas said after a beat, having set the floor with food for the both of us. "Technology changes a great deal in that space of time. The encrypt/decrypt would be completely different, possibly on opposite ends of the spectrum. Without the Skywalkers' help, we're going nowhere fast." I knelt across from him and took a bite of honeycake, savoring the flavor and thanking the Force once again for bringing Silas Dan'kre into my life. His hitherto unknown scavenging and cooking skills, combined with my Force-augmented hunter's senses and skill with the bow, had saved both our lives these past several months of living in isolation. I had known that he had undergone Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape training (SERE for short), but had had no idea that he was this adaptable. "Do you think they'll buy it, though?" "Buy what?" "What's happened to us since we got here," I continued. "I'm still having a little trouble accepting it myself, particularly the bits about the locals' rather unique physiology." "Well, let's put it this way," Silas began, popping a berry into his mouth. "You trusted their version of history—their version of our future—at least what they've told us so far. I don't see why it would be any different for them." "You're right, of course," I conceded, using the Force to pop berries into both our mouths. These kinds of telekinetic tricks helped to keep my skills sharp, as well as to provide entertainment for the both of us, and it had become a custom at breakfast to play with our food in this way. "When I think about all that's happened to us in our lives, though, it feels like we're trapped in one big holodrama." "Maybe we are," Silas replied with a playful smirk, and I retaliated by bounding more berries off of his snout. "Think about it. Maybe some person, sitting at a computer terminal somewhere on a distant world, really is writing out our lives for the entertainment of others." "Don't start, Silas," I warned, waggling a finger at him. "It's bad enough we're—" My rambling was cut short by a sudden sense of movement, and I glanced back at the entrance hole just in time to witness the Skywalkers as they alighted on the branch outside. "Good morning," the younger one announced. "Please, come in," I beckoned, Silas and I both standing to greet them. "Would you care to join us for breakfast?" “We already ate,” the one called Luke said, holding up a placating hand. “We brought food from our ship.” “Field rations?” I asked. “You sure you don't want to try some of these berries, or Silas's excellent honeycake? You could be here for a while.” The Skywalkers closed their eyes at that, and I could feel them as they extended their senses throughout the forest, focusing their attention toward the clearing where their ship had touched down. I followed their lead and felt out with my own awareness, spotting the newcomers before they did. When they brought their attention back toward Silas and myself, I made sure to greet them with a knowing look. "You sense them, yes?" "What in space...?" Ben began, but his voice trailed off as he couldn't find the words. "They call themselves Sa'ari," I explained. "And like I said, they desperately want offworld technology." Luke nodded sagely. "I think it is time that we heard your side of the story, Laera." "Indeed, it is," I replied, waving a hand and sending our eating mat back to its place. It took only a few minutes to fill the gaps in my personal history; surprisingly, they took the news of my death and resurrection at Revan's order rather well. It certainly explained why a redeemed version of the long-dead Dark Lord would have taken such great pains to leave me a message and preserve it for so long. They listened intently as I outlined my involvement in the Mandalorian Wars and what they called the Jedi Civil War (a name I still had trouble wrapping my head around), and how I'd come to know General Sunrider. They nodded in all the right places as I discussed the battles I had fought in, my death on Onderon, and the events that marked my training on Dantooine. Ben listened with particular interest as I recounted the raid on Iridonia and the campaign that resulted, as well as the boarding of Revan's flagship and the subsequent running skirmishes. After that I brought them forward, to the moment we fled the battle over Ord Mantell...
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