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| Out Of The Ashes |
Out Of The Ashes
CHAPTER 1
Twenty different conversations in as many languages swirled around Ariadne as she concocted yet another round of rocket propellant. ‘Or could be,’ she thought sourly. Droids were constructed to do this, not her. The annoyed woman backed away as she sprayed hydrochloric acid onto a few magnesium sulfate liqui-tabs. Damn Koob for his primitive dislike of intelligent machinery! Computers only handled the most basic functions here. Fortunately for the proprietor, many spacers shared his sentiments and flocked to his establishment. Koob had chosen his location well – only ten kilometers away from the industrial city’s landing docks. Nervous captains were in range of their ships to thwart any hijacking attempts while at the same time being far enough away to gain a brief respite from the spaceport’s cacophony.
Cafe Koob’s moderate squalor contrasted starkly with Ariadne’s day job. A somewhat
attractive woman of medium height and cold brown eyes, her non-descript appearance was an
asset to her employment as a labor dispute negotiator.
Lately though, all she seemed to be doing was smoothing ruffled feathers over the
addition of a droid team. The ‘Droid Drudge Brigade’, as they were unaffectionately
nicknamed, had replaced a percentage of Algo-Rhythm Industries, Ltd. The displaced workers
had sabotaged a few robots and one droid. Only the droid, a 241-GX model – the housekeeping
series – had been salvageable, but the memory core had turned out to be faulty. It had
been slated for scrapping, but for some odd reason, Ariadne pitied the blaster-scorched
AI. She ‘adopted’ it, giving in to the first stirring of compassion in her frozen heart
these past five years. 241-GX had always seemed to possess a distinct personality,
cheerfully twittering as it trundled through the building.
Taking it to one of Koob’s Techie patrons had yielded more than just a simple repair.
On the way home, the droid had burbled its thanks, then produced a disk. Once settled,
she played it on her comm board. Its contents surprising, Ariadne brought it to work that
night.
Koob scanned it, then accessed the planetary comm-net. It seemed that someone had
remembered Ariadne from the synth-entertainment circuit back in the old days. Now part-owner
of an interstellar ferry line, he sought to employ her skills to offer a diversion on the
company’s routes from the endless starry void. Koob had chuckled at Ariadne’s surprise. He
explained, "Off-circuit people are cheaper to hire. Not a bad idea to work for this fellow;
I’ve heard of this guy. He’s involved in a three-way partnership, and they’ve added six
new routes in the past year."
Shrugging her shoulders, Ariadne moved to return to the cafe floor. The aging, paunchy
owner peered closely into her eyes. "You know, after four years here I’ve yet to see
something spark your interest. Why don’t you take a leave of absence from both jobs and go?
The change of scenery will do you good."
She shook her head, then returned to the floor. Koob stared after the miserable soul
sadly. He knew her story: many did. Hers was just one of the numerous outrages perpetrated
by the Imperial garrison.
Five years ago, two off-duty, drunk Imperial soldiers had commandeered a landspeeder.
They’d driven onto a pedestrian beltway yelling: "Target the natives!" By the time the
pathway’s collision shield had deactivated the vehicle’s engine, thirteen people were
injured and seven killed. Ariadne’s husband and two young boys lay among the dead.
Upon seeing their bodies, she’d launched herself at the soldiers. It took five
Clefforians to restrain the grief-stricken woman. Those five citizens had acted promptly –
they knew what became of those who defied the Empire’s henchmen. In the fifty years since
the occupation of Cleff first began, the Empire’s domination campaign had reduced one of
the galaxy’s cultural meccas to little more than a propaganda machine. The Emperor knew
the value of musical and artistic influence.<.p>
Planet-wide ‘punishments’, censorship and individual disappearances had quelled the
initial resistance. The fantastically diverse people had no choice but to submit. However,
an underground rebellion had been formed ten years later. Nothing could completely break
the once-proud Clefforian spirit. They were too creatively-driven to accept such a fate
permanently.
Like so many before her, Ariadne had sworn blood revenge upon the Empire. She’d been
narrowly talked out of a kamikaze maneuver upon the garrison’s local compound. So, she
bided her time, existing solely for the fulfillment of that vow.
Koob had sensed the woman’s apathy when she’d answered the employment availability
posting. Knowing her background, he’d hired her on the spot. Someone who had nothing to
lose wouldn’t rattle at the establishment’s more unusual patrons and their inevitable
conflicts. Maybe she’d take an interest in the lively, ever-changing atmosphere. Well,
everything but the last had panned out.
Then, news of the Emperor’s and his heir-apparent, Lord Darth Vader’s demise had been
carried to Cleff by overjoyed spacers, to be followed later by a small Alliance force to
assist in dispatching the garrison. Cleff began to rise again like the mythical phoenix
who when burned to ashes, had risen from its funeral pyre to live once more.
At first elated, Ariadne then slid back into her shell, her only reason for living removed. Fortunately, her friends had approached Koob, believing that he had the off-world connections to find out about the emerging New Republic’s continued skirmishes on the interstellar front. Koob had heard of this as well as the Alliance’s stronghold being settled on Coruscant, of all places! The Emperor’s own world, and in his palace!
Inquiring of his sources, Koob had been informed of the expanding Republic’s need for
administrators and negotiators in every capacity. Digging into Ariadne’s past, the info
terminal had yielded a name that was a mutual acquaintance. After sending a communiqué,
he’d received an answer that indicated that this job could possibly provide free passage
to Coruscant, if she so chose.
Yet after all that, Ariadne had dismissed the opportunity immediately. She didn’t know
about the interstellar mop-up operations, or his employee would’ve shipped out long ago;
that much Koob was certain of. He’d just have to elaborate further.
Ariadne served the imposing, black-haired shaggy Wookiee, then surveyed the rest of
the cafe. Being manager meant keeping eight eyes open at all times. The eight-foot regular
was a freighter pilot from a Techie supply manufacturer. Gerrack always sat at the bar;
he knew she was one of the few humans unintimidated by his appearance. She stopped there
most often to do something, and occasionally greeted him in his own language. The supervisor
had to be a talented musician like many from her world; only the tonally-perfect linguists
could properly speak Wookiee. The few exceptions tended to reply in their own tongue,
which was just as well.
Gerrack had once heard an amusing tale – when one of his kind had
come to assist some smuggler named Han Solo, the human had growled menacingly when they’d
approached his uncooperative ship. He hadn’t known that he was actually complaining about
‘termites undermining building projects’. Evidently that human had come a long way – his
partner, Chewbacca, had brought much honor to his clan by joining with Solo. Proved that
humans weren’t so stupid after all.
When the establishment’s proprietor had approached him to inquire about transporting
the female Ariadne to make a connection from his route to Thespia VI, he’d offered to do
it gratis. Koob was quite grateful and had paid for his meal.
CHAPTER 2
Ariadne programmed in the usual repertoire. She varied it by adding an accompaniment manually on the other keybord access to the synthkeyplex. Though the woman still strongly felt that her musical Gift had been buried with her family, this was something that could be performed on automatic. The thirty-five year old also knew that if she was true to her genetics, a long life lay ahead. She’d better vary the employment scene a bit. When Koob had informed her of the Rebel Alliance’s efforts, she’d jumped at the chance to possibly connect with them. She didn’t realize that the healing process had finally begun, for much time would have to pass before the wall surrounding her emotions could break. Even then a tragedy of that magnitude could never be completely absorbed.
The traveling troubadour had worked this particular route for only a week so far.
She’d welcomed the transfer from the Thespia run. Three months of unbridled gaiety from
that ship’s passengers was sufficient to make her want to vent someone or something out
the airlock! Besides, the dramatis personae rehearsai caused Ariadne to recall aspects of
her life long gone. It left her distinctly uncomfortable.
Even more important was the ship’s proximity to rumored Empire/Alliance entanglements.
This ship was manned by a fearless team of Jeeatyehan pilots. The mated team always
undertook the riskier routes since they paid almost double. Deeku and Gulingulu never
ceased to be amazed by the planetsiders’ beliefs that they were somehow impervious to
interstellar threats. Well, they’d profit by it. The fleet operator and co-owner was a
Clefforian like their Entertainer, and that group tended to value highly those that
performed well for them.
Deeku, the female, knew best how to avoid Imperial probes. Being a former Star Destroyer pilot did have its advantages. They operated on a seldom-scanned barely detectable oscillating waveform on the Zeta scale. Her homeworld had the dubious honor of producing a few of the Empire’s most proficient pilots. Multi-limbed and quadripedal, they were able to simultaneously manipulate instrumentation faster than most races. That functional prowess did not exclude their homeworld from the military’s ravages, though. For some reason, that ability was also associated with the Jedi order, so anything associated from that extinct group warranted an Imperial purge.
Deeku, like so many in the galaxy, was puzzled by the
peacekeepers’ decline, and then disappearance. For so long,the Jedi had been the light
of the known worlds and had kept would-be dictators at bay, for thousands of years!
The revered Force wielders had been as diverse as the myriad races that populated the
galaxy, so it was of little surprise that when the Dark Side manifested
itself among the Chaos, a Sith Lord was prominent. Deeku herself had witnessed the Dark
Lord’s ‘chastisements’ among his troops, and all the enlistees made certain to be triply
productive when he or it was on board. The dark Side’s ascendancy had been a fearful turn
What had become of the Jedi?
There had been stories of a few Jedi Masters re-emerging, with one of them being the
guiding force behind the Empire’s ultimate demise. Jedi Skywalker, it was rumored, had
actually destroyed the Emperor and Darth Vader himself. She could believe it. Only the
Force could defeat evil of that magnitude.
Deeku glanced at her lifemate. Gulingulu had no knowledge of her enlistment in the military, otherwise he’d never had entered into the pairing arrangement. So deep was her shame she could not bear to procreate. Gulingulu was not much for offspring anyway, so that never was a point of contention.
Jeeatyeh, a lushly beautiful world, had been among those to suffer parasitic
infestation, courtesy of the Empire. Its ruthless determination to quell all into submission
had taken the form of biological warfare; an efficient method of destroying subversives
while retaining a world’s assets.
Deeku, like any good soldier, had simply carried out instructions for the atmospheric
flyby. The cargo bay’s AI had been programmed prior to leaving the Destroyer’s hangar.
More often than not, the computer network knew more than the ranks. The enlistees were
drilled inside viewportless ship holds to further their focus upon their duty to the Empire.
Therefore, the Jeeatyehan had no inkling what she was about to do to her planet.
Of course, she wasn’t the only skivvy involved, and nobody ever dared query their CO
when one of the Jeeatyehan pilots had recognized their home star view. Fontork was an
avaricious officer who thought little of ‘disciplining’ his detail. That was typical of
Imperial CO’s. Even so, she would’ve turned on her fellow ships with a kamikaze’s fury had
she known the cargo being dumped into the cumulo-nimbus formations was deadly.
Only later had the ashamed Jeeatyehan learned of the toxic dumping – a grievous comm
disk from home had outlined the sudden affliction of her people. Her mother, an expert
biologist, wouldn’t have exaggerated that which was in the disk. The plague had been
designed to decimate her race.
Haunted by her role in the pestilence, Deeku had sought to expiate her crimes by sabotaging sensor arrays on TIE fighters. When the eventual investigations pointed toward a soldier in her detachment, it had been time to retire. Next had been endless hours devoted to the Jeeatyehan reclamation project. Naturally, nobody was aware of her heinous crime; she would’ve been exiled from the planet forever. Deeku had also searched for connections to the then embryonic Alliance – they could use her knowledge of Imperial strategies. Then came the opportunity to work on a shipping run close to Rebel skirmishes. She also met her copilot and lifemate here.
Gulingulu’s board buzzed. They were about to end the first hyperspace jump. He
automatically fed in the second set of hypercorridor coordinates to the nav-comp. His limbs
stretched in four different directions, stucco-textured skin crackling. Gulingulu glanced
at his mate. "Time to eavesdrop on the subspace bands. The translator’s non-op again, so
we’ll have to guess." He grinned as he fielded a dirty look. Gulingulu had been hoping it
would hold out till their next port-of-call so a droid could take care of the problem.
He avoided repairing circuitry whenever possible – it wasn’t his forte.
"Too bad that little droid the synth entertainer brought isn’t an astromech. Blurble, or whatever she calls it should be reprogrammed." Deeku held only scorn for the obsolete mop unit that the entertainer had such regard for. She’d just have to listen for Imperial codes herself.
They dropped out of hyperspace and approached the Steth System for the first
departure, then lifted off again, barely clearing the outermost planets as they returned
to the sub-corridor of travel. The Kudenge, as fast as liner ships came, reemerged into
normal space on the fringes of a battle. Passengers rushed to the viewports at the
coruscating flares. The lounge’s lights had been dimmed, rendering the discharged energies
that much more spectacular. The circling combatants created no shockwaves in the vacuum
of space, nor sound. Yet the tableau left all transfixed.
Deeku and Gulingulu worked feverishly to evade the battle. As always, Gulingulu
admired his copilot’s calm under stress. Her cool demeanor had enabled them to lose some
small-time pirates two months past. The intricate maneuvers had left him and the thugs
dazzled.
As they veered off, a tractor beam ensnared the Kudenge, knocking everyone to the floor. Ariadne stayed on the deck and advised the passengers to do likewise for the next few minutes just in case. She had a bad feeling about this. The Star Destroyer had been instantly recognizable, but its assailant was unknown. Not that she knew much about starships, but basic sciences had once been a hobby. The bad feeling intensified when the Imperial warship approached – no, they were being pulled towards it! Glancing at the passengers, she noted their frozen expressions. "Good citizens" of the Empire had nothing to fear. An evil impulse to chirp "All part of the friendly service" was forced back from her lips.
The Destroyer’s maneuverability was severely hampered by the tractoring in addition
to evading Wing fighters. The deployed TIE fighters were picked off as a small craft
slipped under the massive Imperial ship’s belly. An explosion ensued immediately,
breaching the Star Destroyer’s hull.
Deeku had been following the ship to TIE transmissions with interest. "We’re
considered Rebel spies, Gul. They’re going to deal with us after the other ship is
defeated."
Gulingulu didn’t look up from his panel, busily shutting down the drive and forward
sensors. He wondered how she knew. The monitored channel had seemed just so much gibberish
to him, the transmitted coded instructions undecipherable. Even if the translator was
on-line, it would’ve been useless now.
The Kudenge suddenly yawed, and the ferry pilots immediately brought the engines back on-line. They cut in thrusters, but the tractor beam’s release had left the transport in the middle of the smaller ship’s sights. Fortunately they were ignored by that ship; their markings easily identifiable. Gulingulu broadcast itinerary telemetry hoping that the Empire’s opposer wouldn’t target civilians. They didn’t, unlike the Star Destroyer who would have disintegrated their insignificant craft had the situation been reversed.
The battle ended when the Imperials were severely crippled and powered down. However, they were tractored again, only this time by the victor. The Kudenge was pulled into a large hangar bay. Gulingulu switched his controls over to Deeku’s board so he could go back to reassure the passengers. The Jeeatyehan was pleasantly surprised to find them relatively passive. Ariadne evidently had the situation under control. Unfortunately, when they spotted one of their captains, frantic questions followed.
Ten minutes later, an armed detail entered the lounge. They weren’t stormtroopers.
Gulingulu was encircled though, and Deeku shepherded in a moment later. "You two are
obviously in charge," they were told. "Come with us; our commander wants to see you. The
rest of you can stay here."
"Wait," Ariadne called out. "Who are you aligned with?"
"The New Republic. You’re aboard the Emissary."
Ariadne felt warm for the first time in years. Four of the seven guards escorted the
Kudenge’s pilots out. The passengers, an expensively tailored lot, continued to stare,
speechless. Ariadne settled back to wait; unlike these corporate types who waged battles
over comm nets, the Clefforian was accustomed to personal confrontation. Still, she did
pity them. Ariadne forced a smile and said, "Okay, we’re out of the cold now. Does anybody
want a drink? If it makes you feel better, this is a New Republic ship. Everything will be
fine."
While the interrogation of the Kudenge’s captains proceeded, a battered X-Wing entered
the area. It broadcast the newer code, and then a familiar voice spoke. "Hey guys! What’s
with the blast-scorched paint job?"
Wedge Antilles, war hero and reluctant commander smiled. The sensors had instantly
identified his friend’s ship. He opened a channel. "Hey yourself, Rogue Jedi – your ship’s
always in worse shape than mine! Can’t you rate repairs?"
Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master and another Alliance hero, grinned. He and Wedge went back
a long way. "Picking up hitchhikers?"
"Sure... we transport freeloaders. Want a beam?"
"Naw, I’ll bring her in myself," Luke answered. "Do some redecorating."
"Fine with me, you have my permission," Wedge laughed. "Hangar doors opening now."
Wedge was immensely relieved at Luke’s arrival. He was currently involved in a dispute
with General Compte’s handling of the ferry ship affair, and needed the Jedi’s involvement.
Granted, the taxi’s timing had been lousy, but its suspicious proximity didn’t warrant
interrogation as far as he was concerned. Besides, if Compte was correct and the small
craft was spying, why bring it aboard to risk self-immolation?
Compte, frustrated with the unforthcoming liner captains, stalked out of the brig.
He’d gotten a positive ID on Deeku; all Imperial enlistees were injected with a microbe
that was detectable on an unusual medical frequency. She claimed to be retired, and it was
possible, since that bacteria had a radioactive half-life. However, her copilot had not
known of her supposedly former Imperial ties. Gulingulu had recoiled instantly upon Deeku
being confronted with that information. He would have pressed further, but Compte had been
urgently summoned to the bridge.
"Skywalker!" Compte exclaimed. "What brings you to this barren sector?"
"Just passing when I sensed your battle," Luke stated. "Stopped by to help, but you’d
already mopped up."
"Well, we do try to keep the space lanes clean of garbage." The whole bridge
compliment grinned.
"Right... um, is there someplace we can talk?" Skywalker asked.
"Sure. Let’s get something to drink."
Luke, Compte and Wedge adjourned to a quiet corner of the mess hall. The X-Wing pilot
gratefully accepted the steaming cup of cafja. One-man fighters weren’t equipped with such
niceties. Seemed as if he’d spent most of his life downing rations of one kind or another.
He focused his attention on Compte.
"So, I hear you’ve been holding an interstellar taxi."
The General glared at Wedge. "Some people don’t think defensively enough. That ship
appeared out of nowhere--"
"Hyperspace," Wedge interjected.
"--in the middle of the engagement." Compte continued to glare.
"Had they attacked, or even scanned the ship?" Luke watched Compte
carefully.
Compte didn’t like the direction the conversation had turned. "No, but they could’ve
been set to decoy or even been a blatant attempt to spy. I questioned the captains and
then ran a bio-scan. One of the pilots came up positive with the Imperial red-flag."
Both Luke and Wedge stared. "I assume you mentioned it to him or her. What did they
say?"
"The pilot’s name is Deeku, and she claims to be inactive. Both
are Jeeatyehan."
The other two men grimaced. Jeeatyeh had been one of the Empire’s ‘examples’ for the
rest of its conquered worlds. Still, the Imperial armies were comprised of many races.
Luke tended to think not in this case, though. "Have you released them back to their ship
yet?"
"No," Compte answered. "I still had one crewmember to question, and didn’t want the
three comparing notes. I haven’t finished with the former Imperial either."
"Who’s the other one? An engineer?"
"Nope – the captains seem to handle that function as well," the General answered.
"The other is an Entertainer by the name of Ariadne. Record’s clean, but that could’ve
been forged. The rest of the ninety-two on board are passengers. Pretty angry, too,
according to the guards. First I’ll finish with the captains, though."
"Why don’t I check out the Entertainer first?" Luke volunteered.
"Be my guest," Compte answered. "Watch out, though; she’s a guild
member."
Luke wondered what that meant besides the bestowment of the ‘Entertainer’ title as
he entered the transport. Looking for the lounge, he took in the various amenities. ‘Must
be nice,’ he mused.
The posted guards sighed in relief as the Jedi entered the compartment. Someone else
could deal with the irate passengers. Someone with a Jedi’s patience. The people came
forward now, yelling. Luke attempted to pacify them as Ariadne, sitting at her synthkeyplex,
studied the newcomer with interest. He projected a curiously strong aura. Like most
creatively gifted people, she tended toward true empathy, and was also receptive to
occasional esper flashes. The fair-haired, compactly built man now approached her. She
could almost feel him sensing her out.
"Hi – you must be Entertainer Ariadne."
"Yes... did you come to request a song?" she asked.
Blue eyes twinkled in amusement. Most people in the situation would’ve been angry
like the others, or stammering in shock. This woman didn’t seem to care. He had understood
the passengers’ reactions and had taken no offense, but it would be best to question her
privately. "Maybe later. Would you mind coming with me? I need to ask you a few questions."
There was still no reaction; merely curiosity.
"By all means. Lead on," she replied, standing. As they exited the liner, she said,
"You know, you rather have me at a disadvantage. I do not know your name." She kept her
eyes straight ahead, taking in the Rebel ship.
"Oh – sorry. Luke Skywalker," he answered.
Ariadne stopped, incredulous. "The Luke Skywalker... Jedi Knight?"
The Jedi didn’t bother to correct her. He was uncomfortable as it was being called
"Master" by his students and acquaintances. Her gaze tracked to the lightsaber dangling
on his thigh. The brownish-red-haired woman now regarded him solemnly.
"There are no words to adequately express my – my world’s gratitude. Your destruction of the Emperor
and the evil Vader have earned a galaxy’s thanks as well, I’m sure."
Luke resumed walking as he stated curtly, "Darth Vader actually killed the Emperor.
He died saving my life."
Shocked, Ariadne stammered: "My... apologies, then. I meant no offense. That is what
people are saying."
Ashamed for being so sharp, Luke said, "No, I’m sorry. It’s true that I was there,
and the battle took place because of me, but many others fought in the final fights too.
My friends were the ones to blow up the second Death Star. People should know the truth;
too many good people have died overthrowing the Empire."
"You are an honorable man, Luke Skywalker, and I still honor your deeds. Too many
civilian lives were destroyed by the Emperor’s regime, including my own." Despite the
Jedi hero’s disclaimer and defense of the Dark lord, she had difficulty assimilating the
revelation. Were it not for Darth Vader’s direct order to leave Cleff garrisoned, her
husband and sons might still be alive. Still, she had no wish to argue the point with
the Jedi instrumental in her world’s emancipation. She sensed that his role was indeed
pivotal to the outcome. Stories actually held, at least ,a few grains of truth.
Compte and Wedge were waiting for them in the Emissary’s lounge. The general was
angered at Luke’s offer of a drink to the possible spy. He sat in stony silence until the
Jedi had seated himself with a cup of cafja for each. Leaning forward, he said brusquely,
"You had no business being in this sector. Why did your ship involve itself in the battle?"
Ariadne nearly choked on the mouthful of hot liquid. "Firstly, the Kudenge is not my
ship, and secondly, you have the manners of a Hutt! Thirdly, as this is obviously an
interrogation, simply ask your questions." This was not the triumphant enlistment she’d
envisioned.
Compte flushed angrily. Wedge hurriedly inquired, "Do you know why a supposedly
inactive Imperial soldier was piloting the transport?"
Ariadne drew back, revulsed. "No, nor do I think that the fleet owners are aware of
that, either. Sintag and I are Clefforians. Surely you know of my world’s fate."
Luke and Wedge shook their heads as Compte pressed. "They’re Jeeatyehan, and their
planet’s much worse off. So, why are you about the Kudenge?"
Ariadne replied calmly, "I was contracted as Entertainer by the transport line
offices. My previous employment consisted of supervising a cafe at night and negotiating
labor disputes by day with Algo-Rhythm Industries, purveyors of boring mass-market ‘hold’
channel music, and other similar venues. I undertook this position in the hopes of
locating and joining the Alliance’s team."
"Very convenient," the General insinuated. "Since you are interested in joining us,
you won’t mind if we do a med-scan on you now...?"
Ariadne wasn’t stupid. "Whatever for? My medical records are logged on the Kudenge’s
computer. That’s standard procedure for interstellar ferry lines."
"Records can be forged, Entertainer Ariadne Meloor." Compte stood, then dismissed his
colleagues by saying, "This won’t take very long. Meet you back on the bridge."
Ariadne stood as well, tightlipped. This ‘General’ of theirs must’ve been trained by
a Rancor. Too bad she couldn’t feed him to one at this moment.
Two hours later, Ariadne paced in front of her synth-board, fuming. She’d requested
its activation – imagine needing to request its operation – and had been denied. Yet, she
was the only person in the room. The passengers had been sealed in their quarters. Was
that the general’s way of apologizing for his rudeness?
A shadow suddenly darkened the floor in front of her. Straightening, she squarely met
the Jedi’s ice-blue gaze."Looks like you’re rethinking joining us," he said.
"Maybe. Did Compte send you to resume the interrogation?" She tried
not to glare.
"Look, I don’t blame you for being angry," the Jedi began, "but try to understand –
there are still several Imperial Admirals running around trying to undermine our efforts."
Ariadne remained silent; Luke’s explanation had mollified her somewhat, but his
friend’s actions had been outrageous. She refrained from venting out her anger on the man.
Luke tried again. "Listen – if you’re serious about working with us, my sister can
put you in touch with the right people. She, herself ,is in need of a skilled negotiator.
Would you be able to come to Coruscant for an interview?"
"Yes, as soon as I book passage," Ariadne replied.
"Lucky for both of us this ship happened to be going our way."
Ariadne’s anger dissolved at Skywalker’s disarmingly boyish smile, but this whole
incident still reeked. She shifted uncomfortably. "Jedi Skywalker, this offer is something
I’ve solely existed for these past five years, but after today, I can’t help wonder if
the New Republic will become the same..." she didn’t finish.
"Call me Luke, and you mean like the Empire? Please believe me when I tell you that
resorting to Imperial tactics isn’t our usual way," Luke stated.
"Alright, Jedi Luke..." Ariadne hesitated only a moment. "When do we arrive at
Coruscant?"
"Just Luke, Entertainer Ariadne Meloor." That won him a half-smile.
CHAPTER 3
One year later, Ariadne found her every waking moment busier than she’d been in her life. Reflecting back, she mentally thanked Luke Skywalker yet again for connecting her with Councillor Organa-Solo. Leia had taken her on immediately and was a totally different breed than that paranoid general way back when.
She’d been cross-trained in several areas, her favorites being the emergency piloting course, and weapons/hand-to-hand combat. She’d continued on with the piloting, learning the basics – everything was so different from the sky and in orbit. It made her forget... for a nanosecond. The flying took place pre-dawn and in the evening after the politico sessions. She had quite a ways to go in both areas; another year before she’d been permitted a solo run in a Wing.
Ariadne pushed back tiredly from the holographic displays; another simulated disaster
pseudoly averted. Diplomatic plot variations were endless. Glancing at her chrono, she
killed the program. Time to get to Leia and Han’s place.
A major portion of the old castle had been festively decorated in honor of the New
Republic’s latest anniversary in power. A party had been set for tonight in commemoration
of the occasion. Pleased as she was for the burgeoning government, attendance was
definitely out on her part. Han had been surprised, but Leia knew her reasons and didn’t
push. Never one to waste an opportunity, Han had immediately asked her to baby-sit their
twin three-year olds. They’d been resigned to toting the two; now they could simply go
out and enjoy a rare evening alone together. She liked the children – an affectionate
and extremely boisterous pair.
It also provided her with a convenient excuse to avoid the celebration; her
acquaintances and friends wouldn’t have understood a flat ‘no’, and she was about to
disclose her reasons to them. Why the hell should she celebrate anything with her family
lying dead in cold Clefforian graves? The only functions attended were the ambassadorial
affairs, and everyone was expected to maintain a facade at those anyway.
The twins greeted her excitedly. She was no stranger to them; many a pleasant evening had been spent with the Organa-Solo family, particularly when Han was off-world on some mission. Both Leia and her protocol droid-turned-part-time-nanny welcomed her assistance in diverting the mischievous pair. Despite her brusque manner, they and Luke had become good friends of hers; they’d seen past the cool front. Luke and Leia had been extremely supportive this past year, he looking in on her during his occasional visits to the palace. Ariadne felt extremely undeserving of their warmth and incapable of fully returning it; time did not heal all wounds. This one festered every time she was around the warm but crusty Han Solo and his family. Still, true friends were rare and these people were like family.
In the old days, she’d associated with a lively bunch. The Corellian and former
Alderaanian Princess certainly qualified as that; they were going at it presently. Each
was accusing the other of passing on their negative traits.
"Children from Alderaan never leapt from tables and couches! They always minded
their manners!" Leia stated loudly.
"Listen sweetheart," Han began, "Corellian kids don’t bother with baby stuff like
that – they’re pilots and fighters from the cradle. Alderaan’s crew, especially related
to Her Royalness family, grow up to become nerf-herders!"
"Why you stuck-up, low-life outerworld smuggler --"
"Yeah, and you married it," Han snorted. "That kind of makes you a
low-life too."
They emerged from the bedroom still arguing as Leia adjusted Han’s collar. The
twins rushed over, yelling, "Mommy, you have to listen to Daddy!" and "Daddy, you have to
listen to Mommy! You be good, okay?"
All three adults burst out laughing, then Ariadne turned away, all-too-sharply
reminded of her own little boys – they’d been five and six at the time of the tragedy.
Ariadne heard their footsteps approach the door and moved to wish Han and Leia fun. The
glamorous couple was late, as usual. This would also be the last night spent together
for nearly two months. Both had received assignments in different directions.
Tenair IV had recently been the center of illicit operations; Han was going to scope
the situation out. Leia would be heading a mission to a raw resources-rich world that
had chosen isolationism a century ago. After nearly a year, Leia had finally convinced
Kaftyk to accept a delegation. Kaftyk, a distant star system, contained only one habitable
world. It was an ideal supply cache, if the planet’s government could be persuaded to join
the Alliance, or at the very least sell to them. A musical religious order figured
prominently in their culture, so Leia had been elated when her brother had introduced
her to Ariadne.
Unfortunately, the woman had a cold demeanor, but upon thrusting her into a
diplomatic simulation, Ariadne had immediately changed into a congenial ambassador of
goodwill. She then, as her first assignment to the New Republic, worded an eloquent
communiqué to Kaftyk that helped to break the ice. Leia had then seen a spark of
underlying warmth when she’d met the twins.
So, she decided to try to somehow repair
the emotional damage wrought by the Empire. Ariadne had revealed the nature of her
tragedy when asked for her reason of wanting to join. She never mentioned it again;
simply went about life as if her soul had been destroyed. After being immersed in the
Alliance’s training program a few months, the Clefforian woman began to display signs
of life. Leia had constantly encouraged Ariadne to spend off-time with them, and had
gotten a loyal friend in return. It was also another set of trustworthy eyes on her
twins – she still harbored deep fears of kidnapping. She and the children had come
to care for Ariadne very strongly, and felt the sentiment returned.
CHAPTER 4
"That’s got to be the bumpiest hyperspace entry I’ve ever seen!
What have you been doing? Flying geosynchronous orbits? Better stick with the Force."
"You still have to use a nav-comp for coordinates. If I hadn’t
implemented the jump, you’d have trapped us in a subspace bubble, or wormhole. Good thing
I came along for the ride!"
Wedge Antilles grinned. He’d sorely missed Luke on the various missions these past
few years. His friend only flew with him on the most crucial assignments; Skywalker’s
work training new Jedi took precedence over most everything. Without the Force backing
them up, the Galaxy would’ve had difficulty in accepting the New Republic’s continued
legitimacy.
The Jedi Master was also enjoying himself. His shoulders had been heavily burdened
for nearly a decade, and it was only going to become more difficult. He was responsible
for shaping other people’s destiny; a sobering task. For now though, he’d permit
himself to relax in the company of one of his closest friends and flying partner. They’d
done a lot together over the years.
The diplomatic team, comprised of Councillor-High Ambassador Leia Organa-Solo,
Economic Advisor and Financial Planner Vetek Bayul, Diplomatic Attaché Ariadne Meloor
and protocol droid C-3PO all sat in the ship’s common area. C-3PO had been programmed
to instruct the group on cultural protocols, faux pas to avoid, and was now discoursing
on the additional Known Worlds Directory subroutine in his memory.
The KSD had flagged Kaftyk as being unreceptive to outsiders, as well as possessing
one of the more difficult entries into the solar system. Its trinary star group had
created a virtual maelstrom constantly fed by the suns’ magnetic flares; if Kaftyk IX
had not been so far out, it would have been very difficult to support life. Very few of
the known sentient species could tolerate that magnitude of radiation emissions.
Those emissions ran the whole spectrum.
That difficulty had allowed Kaftyk to emerge from the Imperial scourge unscathed.
A brief encounter with an Imperial Requisitions Reconnaissance had caused the recalcitrant
natives to withdraw further from interstellar dealings. Fortunately for their world,
that Imperial ship had been destroyed in one of the earliest Rebel battles. They had
stayed relatively anonymous for twenty years after that, until recently.
Mon Mothma had been reviewing info disks from the Rebellion’s formative years and
had come across Bail Organa’s mention of this world as an important supply house, and
possible ally. It seemed only fitting that Bail’s daughter head up the delegation there.
When an envoy had finally been granted permission to come, she had wasted no time
dispatching one. Leia had been quite pleased to handle it.
The Alliance had also sent gifts, an achromatic-laser producing device and extra
lenses. The color blind Kaftyks had for too long dealt with incomprehensible technology;
now they could utilize achromasiac products and bring their technology into compatibility.
‘Benefits of Alliance Membership’ info disks were also reticulate in the hold.
That night, Ariadne couldn’t sleep. Her knowledge being vital, she sought to renew
ties with her musical self. Those three months as a transport entertainer had been
conducted on automatic pilot. She looked away from the blurry-starred panorama as
footsteps approached. Luke was either duty pilot, or also couldn’t sleep. He thoughtfully
handed her a cup of steaming liquid then sipped his own as he too gazed out at the
diffused picture. They stayed that way for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Luke broke the silence. "Pretty out there. Can’t get that kind of view
planetside."
"You were definitely ‘to the cockpit born’, Luke," Ariadne began. "How is the
teaching progressing? I assume you’ve been totally consumed with it since your last
visit."
He made a face. "Yeah, it’s a very arduous undertaking, both for myself and my
students. Some of it’s still trial-and-error."
"Having instructed for years before, I can understand a little of what you are
undergoing," Ariadne answered. "You also seem a bit troubled."
"Hmmm – you’re very perceptive," Luke stated. "Yes, I am. I had been trained by a
Master with eight-hundred years experience, and prior to that, another with at least
forty."
"Then you should have less difficulty than you seem to be experiencing," Ariadne
observed. "When I first began teaching, every minor setback seemed to be a major blight
upon a once-promising potentiate. After a while though, things began to flow. I even
found myself repeating lectures my own professors had given me, including the sayings
I’d vowed to forget! It comes full-circle, though. It’s probably happening now. Try
to stay positive a little longer and you’ll be well-rewarded."
The Jedi exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple. One of my Masters had other
apprentices before me. One of them turned to the Dark Side of the Force and became
Darth Vader." He shook his head. "I myself was told that ‘the good man who was
Anakin Skywalker’ had been seduced and turned by the Dark Side. He was far more
powerful than I am presently." Luke refused to meet Ariadne’s gaze as she recoiled
a step.
"He was your father..." Controlling her horror, Ariadne forced herself to stop
retreating. Whatever Luke Skywalker was, he was no Dark Lord. She was moved by his
troubled confession – he couldn’t have shared that burden with too many people.
She was also his friend. Stepping back next to him, she touched his arm. "You
were also instructed by that same Master. And... the father died saving the son."
"True." The memory of his father’s face would forever both haunt and comfort him.
"Yet look what happened before that!"
"As I know misery," Ariadne sympathized, "there are no guarantees. It’s also
impossible to predict every future. All you can do is feel out your students as you
had with me that time. Then proceed accordingly and adjust according to the student’s
temperament."
Luke stared at the Clefforian in wonder. He’d been right to confide in her. Another
teacher’s advice was sorely needed, even if she couldn’t comprehend the possible impact
from his instruction. This person had become a close friend and had somehow softened
around the edges lately. Now she indicated she’d sensed his probe of her intent when
they’d first met.
"Does the Force run in your family?" he asked.
"Not that I’m aware of," she answered. "How can one tell?"
Luke always disliked that question. There was never a clear-cut answer, though
he’d managed to find one with his trainees. "It’s a bit hard to explain... in the
beginning it becomes a heightened awareness of people and events around you, and you
can identify them. From what I’ve seen, each person interprets it differently."
"I’d experienced something akin to that a long time ago, during a
creative journey into my music," Ariadne admitted. "Whether it was a form of the Force or
the many past generations of musicians in my soul passing on their legacy, I couldn’t say.
See, most artists of the various media – paint and that sort or music – have that ability
anyway –it’s what helps them and drives them to create. In my case, the feeling’s long gone.
Even if I wanted to, I doubt that flame could be rekindled. Too much has transpired
in my life to make that possible."
"Maybe not..." Luke disagreed. "In time, you could learn to deal with it as I did
with my father. We reconciled at the end."
"I too had a miserable father," Ariadne began. "He was pretty rotten to me, and I
eventually came to terms with it, but the loss of my --"
"Did your father help enslave a galaxy?" Luke countered. "Or cut your hand off? Or
nearly kill you?" He shook his head. "Yet after all that, when I got to see my father
– really see him – for the first and last time, I loved him. I can’t explain why, except
that despite the Emperor’s hold over him, he couldn’t let me die. He ended up dying in
my arms right after."
"Luke --"
"I never got to ask him why he’d turned either," Luke stated
absently.
She touched his hand, but he pulled it away roughly. Holding it up, he said, "See
this? It’s a cybernetic attachment. My father ended up almost completely like this. I
carry around a permanent reminder from all that; but I got through it, and learned to
make peace with the past. You have to do the same, and start living again."
"So do you!" Ariadne exclaimed. "That hand troubles you still, or you wouldn’t
have pulled it away. You’re fortunate to have had access to that treatment. Do you
have any idea how many people don’t? And --" she reclaimed the artificial hand, "-- it’s
a part of you, who you are. Don’t be ashamed of it."
Luke smiled slightly. "Heck of a way to begin a trip."
"It was worth it if we learned something. Better turn in – it’s pretty late."
She gazed steadily into his ice-blue-colored eyes and added, "You are a fine teacher
already. Everything will proceed as it’s meant to. Goodnight, my friend."
He squeezed her hand, then released it. "Sleep well."
The voyage continued uneventfully. Everyone had finally felt secure in their knowledge of Kaftyk’s customs to avoid any serious blunders. Their strategy had also been well-planned, so all that was left was finishing the sleep tapes of the Kaftyk language. Half of their daytime conversations were conducted in the new tongue. Wedge and Luke had also needed to learn the language, but Vetek liked to tease them by addressing them in a totally different language to hinder their progress. Ariadne defended the pilots by talking to Vetek in Wookiee, making him jump at first.
As the three-week voyage neared its end, Ariadne again found herself unable to
sleep. She reflected on the sense of camaraderie formed. A tiny ray of warmth was
beginning to thaw the lump of ice that had gripped her for so long. She and Luke had
spent many nights engrossed in quiet conversation, each learning, and resolving much
about their pasts. There were many unexplored depths to this man.
The object of her musings had entered the room unnoticed as Ariadne began to sing
softly. Hesitantly at first, for so much clouded her voice, then with increasing
confidence. She hadn’t sung in a long time. Luke stayed in the shadows entranced by
the haunting lament. The occasional breaks disappeared, leaving a pure sound. She
continued with another sad song, stopping at the end to spin around. Ariadne had
sensed Luke’s presence.
"Luke! Hi – um, I didn’t mean to wake you," she stated.
"You didn’t," he answered. "It’s my turn up front. I was going to the galley for
a drink when I heard your voice. Don’t forget – Jedi have sensitive hearing. It sounded
beautiful. I didn’t know you sang as well."
"Like so many things... used to," Ariadne shrugged. "It needs a lot of retraining,
though I thank you for the compliment."
"You’re very knowledgeable about your field."
"Sort of," she demurred, "but knowledge without practical
application is pointless."
"Sounds like something Master Yoda would’ve said." He mimicked gruffly, "HEE-HEE,
knowledge but no practice, stick one’s head in a Dark Side cave, might as well."
Ariadne’s mouth flew open, then they both chuckled. The ice melting further, the
Clefforian woman suddenly realized that she was being drawn down an entangled path.
Backing away from the impending wave of emotion, Ariadne bid the Jedi a hasty goodnight,
then hurried out of the room.
Luke stared after her, puzzled by the sudden exit. He too was drawn, but not by mere attraction. There was more going on here. He didn’t follow, knowing that patience was the key to all this. Time would ultimately reveal what directions their friendship would take.
He didn’t see her again until they’d landed, each immersed in their own final preparations. The expert pilot now assisted his equally competent partner as they navigated the difficult solar system. They’d had to slow briefly to make contact. The terse reply supplied the necessary coordinates for the narrow margin of safety to reach them. The risk didn’t concern the spacers overly much; the receding comet’s tails and subsequent polarization of sensors a typical interplanetary hazard. Even the ionization came as no surprise, nor the deflected ice particles. After fighting in many battles, this was a welcome exercise.
The Kaftyk System boasted a trinary star group. They illuminated and reflected the parallel comet’s receding trails now, as no astro-holomentary could ever hope to. Luke himself had hailed from a binary system, but its forgettable planets Tatooine and the further out Dantooine only reflected the colors of shifting arid wastes. No wonder the early Rebel forces had grouped there.
It also came as no surprise that the Empire hadn’t followed up here, mused Wedge.
Aside from requiring a specific approach vector, large freighters would’ve been in
retrieving ore and other such supplies. Those ships would be trapped, then crushed in
the cubed gravity well. He could only imagine what isotopic variations and red-shift
spectral analysis would be recorded if the sensors hadn’t been voided. He glanced at
his partner, who seemed to be light years away, mentally.
Luke had closed his eyes, stretching out with the Force. His mind could barely
assimilate the staggering energies. In other words, something big was out there. He
came out of his trance as Wedge joked, "I’ll fly between the suns on the left, and
you take the right."
"My money’s on the right, with the Force," Luke smiled.
"Cheater. Fly fair for once," teased Wedge as Luke playfully cuffed
his helmet.
At Wedge’s announcement, the New Republic’s envoy strapped in. Leia rolled her eyes at C-3PO’s complaints of deceleration stress. Ariadne dozed; after all she’d been through, this was anticlimactic. Vetek ran complicated calculations through his head. The droids, secure in their holds had switched off to conserve power.
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