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It was a time of chaos. It was a time of evil rule. Long gone were the days of seventy-five years ago where there had been justice for a time. For a very short time. For these were the days of the Second Imperium.
She had heard stories of those days long ago, when a New Order of Jedi Knights had surfaced for a time, when he who was Emperor had been defeated. But those days were no more, and the New Republic had been short-lived.
"Justice" had died seventy-five years ago, five years after the disappearance of her great-grandfather, Luke Skywalker. It was assumed that he had died, though the Jedi Knights of the day swore that they had felt nothing. And the Emperor swore he was dead. Danielle didn't know, but from what her grandfather had told her, Luke Skywalker would have shown by now, if he had been living. Her grandfather had been Nathan Skywalker, the son of Luke Skywalker, possibly the greatest Jedi ever known. And it seemed that the Skywalker family line knew no luck from the Empire.
It had begun with Anakin Skywalker, her great-great-grandfather. He had turned to the dark side, serving the Empire for over twenty years, until pulled away by her great-grandfather, Luke Skywalker, who had fought the Empire - namely, Sidious Palpatine - until he had disappeared, or died. He had recreated the Jedi - in the form of the New Order of Jedi Knights. But that same order lasted for only six years beyond him, now only alive in spirit. Her grandfather had been the last Jedi Master. She had witnessed his death six years ago.
Her father was Luke Skywalker II. And that name had driven the Emperor into fury. She did not remember much, for she was only six at the time, but when she remembered, it came as in a fog. She remembered a feeling of darkness, and her father telling he mother to leave...
They had hid in the closet, which had a small door to the outside. She saw a flash of aqua lightning - lightning? - and her father flew across the room. Her mother held her close as she got her first look at the Emperor. He was hooded, and evil. Even at six, she knew that he was evil.
"Take him away," the Emperor ordered. "And bring me the wife and child."
"My lord, what if they are not here?" one of his minions asked.
"They are here!" His voice was full of fury. "I will be rid of Skywalkers once and for all!"
They had believed themselves safe from the Empire. They had hidden on Corellia, a place no one would expect the descendants of a Jedi to be. Yet they had been found.
"What do you want with me?" she heard her father demand as they were about to drag him out.
The Emperor turned on him. "You follow the name of one I hate." His voice was icily cruel.
"Skywalker?" her father asked. "Or is it more than that? Is it that you want no reminder of he who defeated you?"
Sometimes she wondered why her grandfather had named her father after his own. Luke Skywalker II, named after a hero, the man whom had been the bane of Sidious Palpatine, Emperor of the Second Imperium, had even looked like his grandfather - her great-grandfather. His hair had been a shade darker blond, his eyes a shade lighter blue, but the resemblance had been so great that Danielle had been told that her great-grandmother, Mara, had been known to leave the room when her grandson was near. Perhaps the naming had been her grandfather's private way of defying Palpatine without action, without endangering those close to him. Perhaps it had been his way of finally acknowledging that his own father was not coming back. Or maybe it had been hope that named him, the hope of Luke Skywalker's return, if not in himself, in his grandson. Her grandfather had never said why, just said it was done.
And it had taken her father away from her, and later, caused his death..
She heard the cracking of lightning again, and her father soared from view. It was the last time she ever saw him.
"Now..." the Emperor said. "Find the rest. I want them alive. Especially the daughter."
She saw the Emperor leave, and heard her father dragged behind him.
"Go Chris!" he yelled to her mother, whom Danielle realized had been about to leap out. Danielle saw two beams of light, one yellow and one orange, leap to life. She heard a strange humming sound as her mother released the catch in the closet, and the hidden door opened, leading into the street.
They raced outside. The day was cloudy and gloomy, it seemed to foretell disaster. It was early in the morning; the street was deserted as they ran. She heard the shouts of the men with the strange lights, heard their footsteps as they followed them.
It felt as if they ran forever before her mother pulled her into an empty doorway. Suddenly, she hard a shot and her mother fell. From somewhere deep inside, Danielle knew she was dead. The two men with the lights grabbed ahold of her as she stared, dumbfounded, at her fallen mother.
"Come with us, brat," one said.
But Danielle was frozen. And she knew that she shouldn't go with them. So she balked, and they dragged her forward as she noticed a shuffling figure along the other side of the street. The old woman wore a hooded cloak, and her strides were slow and uneven.
"You - woman, come here," one of Danielle's captors said, stopping. The woman did not turn. "Hey, you there - old hag, I said come here!" he repeated.
She turned toward him, head bowed, and shuffled in their direction.
"What did you see, woman?" he asked, as more of the men who had invaded her home came down the street. Two more had reached them, there were now four by Danielle, and six more coming.
"I saw you kill a woman and kidnap a child," the old woman replied, her voice soft, yet unafraid.
Danielle felt the man's anger through his hand on her arm. That was not a smart answer, she knew, not if one wanted to live. "What did you say?" he barked.
The old woman's head came up, her hood falling back. Her bright blue eyes flashed. "I said, I saw you kill a woman and kidnap a child," she replied, her voice much stronger. "And I will add that it will not stand."
"How dare you -" the man began, but there was a snap-hiss and third humming sound added to the first two as a sun-yellow light - stick? - appeared. The man who had spoken fell as the old woman whirled, cutting apart the second man with the light. Danielle was vaguely aware of a second hooded figure dropping from the roof with a green light-stick in hand, and the last two kidnappers fell. Foggily, she wondered what was going on, and then recognized the second as his hood fell, revealing her grandfather.
"Grandpa?" she asked.
"He turned toward her, but spoke instead to the old woman. "Nicki?"
"Nate?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I'd guess," he replied.
The men with lightsticks were running toward them now.
"Great," the woman - Nicki - said. "Then get her outta here."
"And leave you?" her grandfather replied. "Forget it."
"Nate, we can't win at these odds," Nicki pleaded.
"Then best we go down together."
"No!" Nicki said forcefully. "Somehow, someone had to save her."
"Then you go."
She looked at him, and smiled sadly. "Someone had to be left to carry it on," she said.
"Then let it be you," Nate insisted.
"I'm no master, Nate," she said. "But at least I'll die like a Skywalker." She turned toward those rushing at her. "Now go."
Her grandfather turned off his lightstick - lightsaber, he had called it, long ago - and put it on his belt. He bent over, and picking her up, he said:
"Time to leave this party, Danielle. Hang on tight." He turned to Nicki. "Force be with you, Nik."
She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, yet her face held a strange sadness. "And you," she said softly. "Finish what Dad started."
"It will," her grandfather replied. "One way or another, it will."
Danielle watched Nicki fighting over her grandfather's shoulder as he carried her away. She sure didn't look like an old woman now...
They went to a ship, and they were being followed. Suddenly, a big, furry creature jumped into view. Danielle screamed.
"It's all right, Danielle," her grandfather said. "He's a friend.
"Take her, Chewie," he continued, handing her over. "I'll hold them off."
The animal whined.
"No, I'm coming," her grandfather said. "Just pick me up on the way."
The animal - Chewie - huffed in disbelief.
"Someone has to teach her, Chewie," her grandfather said. "And now I'm all that's left. Now go!"
Chewie turned and ran for the ship, moving fast for one so large. Once on board, he placed her in a seat, strapping her in. Moments later, she felt the ship lurch and leave the ground. Through the front window, she could see her grandfather fighting.
The ship leapt forward, flying for her grandfather as he fought. As it turned, she lost sight of her grandfather. Danielle felt the ship hit the ground, and then a loud bang. Moments later, she heard a humming, followed by a hissing noise, then her grandfather saying:
"Let's go, Chewie!"
A moment later, her grandfather was in the cockpit, strapping into the copilot's seat as the ship soared into the
air again. They went up and up, making Danielle sure that she was leaving her home forever. And then it began to hit her.... And she knew that she would never call Corellia home again.
Her grandfather had brought her home with him. She had been right, and since then had not been to Corellia, even now that the choice was her own. It had ceased being her home in moments, and her home had become Bakura.
She had been raised by here grandfather and his wife, Jessica. She loved her grandparents dearly, but even they could not replace the parents she had lost. At six she had not been able to fully understand that her mother was dead, but four years later, when she learned that her father had died, she was able to understand.
Her grandfather had occasionally scared her. He had a certain frightening calm, and in his eyes there was sometimes an echo of pain, like a ghost from his past. Once, when she had asked her grandmother, Jessica had only replied:
"I know, and sometimes it scares me too," she had said. "But it seems to be the curse of Skywalkers that are such as your grandfather is. I saw it in your great-grandfather, as well... but even bit more in him. It is the mark of having lived a difficult life with many losses."
"Like what?" Danielle had asked.
"Not yet Danielle. It is his story to tell, not mine."
And she had said no more, forcing Danielle to accept it at that. So she had, until...
They had been sitting down after dinner, just talking about whatever came to mind. Suddenly her grandfather stopped in mid-sentence, and closed his eyes. Her grandmother seemed to be concentrating, looking far off into the distance. So Danielle opened her mind and stretched out with her senses as her grandfather had taught her to do. She felt something in the distance, something strong, yet over...
Her grandfather opened his eyes and said in a soft voice:
"He's dead."
Her grandmother stood from the table and walked out of the room without a word. When she was gone, Danielle asked softly:
"Who's dead?"
Her grandfather paused a moment, then answered. "Your father."
"What do you mean?" She was shocked... he had been dragged from her home four years ago..
Her grandfather was silent for a moment. "I think it is time, Danielle, for you to learn of your family."
She looked at him, curious and confused.
"Your family, even in name, is an old one, back to the days of the Old Republic. And our family has held a strong Jedi tradition."
"Jedi?" she asked. The Jedi Knights were known to be evil, the enemies of justice...
"But not the Jedi as Palpatine says they were," her grandfather said. "The Jedi Knights were the upholders of justice in the Old Republic, and for a short time, in the New Republic. Palpatine destroyed the Order, not because it was evil, but because it alone was still willing to stand against him.
"Palpatine is a Sith. He too, uses the Force, as the Jedi did. But he uses the dark side of the Force, the side born of evil. It is driven by fear, anger, and aggression. As is he."
"The Force?" Danielle asked.
"The Force is created by life," her grandfather said. "It creates us, and binds us, and makes us grow. The Jedi have always been able to 'tap into' the Force, to use it to go beyond themselves. But not just anyone can become a Jedi. It takes an inborn strength in the Force, something Skywalkers have always carried. You are heir to that tradition, Danielle. But you are also heir to Palpatine's hatred. For he does hate our family. More than he hates the Jedi, he hates Skywalkers, and he would destroy us if he could."
"Why?"
"It began with my grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, Anakin Skywalker. Palpatine had been able to turn him to the dark side for a time, but he was brought back. He was brought back by his son, my father, Luke Skywalker. The man whom your father was named after. Your great-great-grandfather died as a result of the struggle he had with Palpatine, as did Palpatine - for the first time.
"But your great-grandfather lived on. And over the next fifteen years, he became Palpatine's worst nightmare. He became an instrumental part of the government that defeated the Empire, but worst of all for the Emperor, he recreated the Order of Jedi Knights, which Palpatine had destroyed. And once again, justice ruled."
"So that is why he hates us so?" she asked.
"No, not nearly," her grandfather replied, "though it is a start. Most of what Palpatine hates us for is personal. And that, too, came from your great-grandfather.
"Like his father before him, my father was turned to the dark side by Palpatine. And like his father before him, he turned away, though more through his own will than that of another. But that was not all. Time and time again, your great-grandfather and Palpatine went head-to-head. And it was your great-grandfather who won nearly every time."
"He - your great-grandfather - had an extraordinary strength in the Force." Jessica's voice came from the doorway. "He was born very strong, but as he went on, he became stronger. He often scared us with his strength." She sat down.
"And with his will," her grandfather continued. "When he got something in his mind, it got done. But back to the point..
"They - my father and Palpatine - fought many times. Palpatine died several of those times."
"Died?" Danielle asked.
"Died," he confirmed, nodding. "Palpatine learned to transfer his consciousness into a clone of himself, and in doing so, had made himself almost immortal. But he never took losing well. Especially to your great-grandfather, who was the only one able to face him one-on-one without fear."
Her grandmother spoke. "Your great-grandfather faced many things that would have killed any other man. He held the Jedi together, and the way he died was not as he should have."
"Palpatine had a weapon, a weapon called the Sun Crusher," her grandfather said. "It was capable of destroying an entire system of planets. He brought it to Corellia, threatening to kill the entire system if the New Republic did not turn Luke Skywalker over to them.
"My aunt Leia - the New Republic's Chief of State - didn't like it. We all knew how important he was, but it was not our decision to make. He turned himself over to Palpatine in exchange for the Sun Crusher. He was forty-two.
"No one ever felt his death, though neither did we ever see him again. Though I know it would have taken him a long time to die."
"Oh." Danielle didn't quite understand, but was sure she didn't want to know.
"But Palpatine's hatred of him blossomed into fury. And Palpatine has always feared that one of his offspring will defeat him. Palpatine swears that he is dead - which is true, in a physical sense, anyhow - but not in spirit. He is still a legend to all the Jedi, a legend that Palpatine can not defeat." He paused. "And so he wishes to destroy us. Every Skywalker that lives is a reminder of his defeats. And each of us is a threat." He pulled the lightsaber he wore from his belt.
"Someday this will be yours, Danielle," he said. "It would have been your father's, but with his death, it goes to you. It belonged to my father, constructed by him when he was twenty-one." He handed it to her. "With it comes the tradition of being a Jedi. And a strong one."
"Why me?"
"Because it is so," Nathan Skywalker replied. "Just close your eyes and let your feelings tell you of the past."
She focused her concentration on the lightsaber in her hands. The feelings were her own, but the thoughts seemed not to be.
Made in need by a boy, yet wielded by a Master. Flash of pain, a strange strength... stubbornness?
"Strange?" her grandfather's voice broke through to her.
"Yes..." she said slowly.
"That is a presence that had stayed for years," he said. "That of your great-grandfather."
Danielle was coming home. It was two days until her grandfather's birthday, and she had been shopping for
weeks. She had wanted to get him the perfect gift.
She had finally found it, a thirty-centimeter long model of an X-wing fighter, painted with the markings of the New Republic. She had found it in an antique store, and the dealer had been glad to be rid of it - it was almost a crime to sell items from those days. But she had bought it anyway, knowing he would love it.
It had been a year since her grandmother died, and in that time, she had learned much. She had begun to learn the ways of the Force from her grandfather, the last Jedi Master. They had traveled across the galaxy, visiting those who were willing to fight the Empire. Those who were willing to fight to resurrect the Jedi Knights. She had begun her training, and she learned also learned of the Jedi's downfall.
She had also learned of her great-grandfather. And she had learned that her grandfather held his dead father in great esteem. He was a legend to the Jedi, and she often felt strange to be descended from one such as him.
She gripped the model X-wing tightly, not knowing why she felt the bad feeling she felt. She felt as if something was terribly wrong...
She slipped through the back door, as always, hoping she could enter without her grandfather noticing. It was a game they played...
She heard a familiar snap-hiss, and the humming that always accompanied the ignition of a lightsaber. A voice that was somehow familiar said:
"An old relic won't save you now, Skywalker."
"And yet you are so afraid to come alone, Clite?" her grandfather asked.
Clite? Danielle wondered. The Emperor's son? Grandfather said he hated us, but to send Clite, whom he only sends after those he wants to be gone for sure...
"I am not such a fool to allow you to goad me."
"I am a Jedi, Clite," her grandfather replied, "I do not goad you. I merely wonder if you've not yet passed in over your head."
"And what does that mean?" The tone was mocking.
"You will be defeated, Cilte. You, your father, your Empire. If not by me, by another."
"You are the last Master, Skywalker." Clite was enraged; she could tell by his tone.
"And once my father was the last Jedi," her grandfather replied. "You were defeated before, and it will be so again."
She peered around the corner cautiously. Her grandfather stood, the last Jedi Master, about twenty feet down the hall from the door. Two figures where also there, and one - Clite - held an ignited lightsaber. The blade was black, in sharp contrast to the green of the saber that had once belonged to her great-grandfather. Clite attacked her grandfather.
She wanted to jump out and scream, but her grandfather's eyes met hers. In those eyes she saw one word -
Don't.
She knew in that moment that all was lost if she intervened. Somehow she understood that.
Danielle watched them duel, and saw the second figure, which was cloaked, move around the room, so that they were at her grandfather's back. She knew that cloaked, hooded form...
It was Palpatine - from five years ago she remembered him, from the day that she had lost her family, the day that she had nearly lost her life.. and now she understood that she had almost lost so much more than that...
Clite began to fall back - he was losing, she could see. But then she heard a snap-hiss, and a crystal blue saber ignited. Her grandfather froze.
"Remember this, Skywalker?" Palpatine taunted. "It belonged to your mother. I enjoyed killing her, and your sister. I enjoyed watching it drop from your sister's hand. And I shall kill you as I killed them. As I killed your father."
"And yet he still won," her grandfather replied.
"Won?" The Emperor's tone was mocking. "Hardly. He is dead."
"You will never understand."
What the Emperor's reply would have been, she never found out, for Clite swung at her grandfather's head at that moment, but was blocked. Palpatine stepped forward.
"Run, Danielle!" her grandfather yelled, as the blue blade swung toward him, while his blade remained locked in Clite's.
She turned, never seeing her grandfather fall, never seeing him disappear as all Jedi do, yet she felt it, and could not forget it. Ever.
It was not until several minutes later that she realized that she still held the model X-wing in her hands. What would have been her grandfather's gift was instead her only remembrance of him. She considered throwing it away, but she spotted a piece of paper tucked into the cockpit. She opened it, and found a short note. It read:
If you read this, you know to carry on. It is not ever lost, not until the end. Continue
the tradition of the Jedi, for this is the model of a fighter flown by a Master.
She looked at it, and painted on the sides were strange forms, TIEs, a Death Star, other fighters. And she realized that it was a model of a certain X-wing, and that it had to be the one flown by her great-grandfather...
Time passed, and Danielle went on. She met up with the remaining Jedi, tried to continue her training. But with the last Jedi Master dead, it was difficult. Nor could she stay with the Jedi, for they were all always moving, always trying to stay one step ahead of the Empire. It was all they could do to keep the Order alive; Clite was on a rampage, and many Jedi died. Her grandfather had been only the first.
She lost friends, but there was one who hurt more than almost all of the others combined. It was not only because of the friendship they shared, but it was also because Heather Dairit was the closest to being a Jedi Master out of all of them. She had been with another friend, staying in the Audjour Resort at Cloud City. She and Bret had been searching for Heather, and their most recent clue had led them to Bespin. They still hoped, for none of the Jedi had felt Heather die...
Bret had been sitting on the floor in front of the holovid, and Danielle had been trying to get her stubborn suitcase out of the closet without allowing everything else to fall on top of her. She wasn't succeeding.
Suddenly Bret yelled to her, his voice and words urgent. "Danielle, you'd better get out here!" he said.
"What is it?" she asked, hurrying out of the closet, turning to him.
"That." He pointed at the holovid projector.
She looked at it, and for a moment, found nothing amiss. But then she read the words.
To all the "Jedi"...
She sat down abruptly. "Huh?" she asked.
"I don't know," Bret replied. "But I've got a feeling that it's about Heather."
"Yeah," she replied softly. "So do I."
The black screen fuzzed for a moment, and then changed to that of a young woman, slight of build, who's hands were chained over her head - the chain ran off screen - and feet were secured to the floor. It was Heather, and she looked at the holovid calmly, openly defying the entire Empire with her eyes.
The Emperor stepped into view.
"He's doing his own dirty work.." Bret muttered.
"Shhh," Danielle chided him.
The Emperor spoke. "Here is one of the so-called Jedi. One that has been tried and found guilty of treason, and rebelling against the Empire. I advise you, all loyal citizens, not to harbor those such as her, for they will entice you with their mind powers, and control your will.
"Of this, she has also been found guilty." He turned to Heather. "And, Heather Dairit, do you admit these crimes?"
"I admit to fighting against the Empire you have built apon the blood of innocent people," Heather said calmly. "And if you call that treason, then I am guilty."
"I give you one more chance," the Emperor said silkily, "to repent your crimes and swear loyalty to the Empire."
"I will not swear to you."
"Are you sure?" he asked, seemingly the plaintive, truthful Emperor.
"I am sure."
"Very well, then," he said, and then turned to the camera. "You now see the evil of the Jedi exposed. You see their lies that they try to spread. And now I will show you how serious I am in rooting out this evil." There was a snap-hiss, and a green lightsaber ignited in his hand. "I am serious enough to have their blood on my own hands." He turned back to Heather. "Again, are you sure of your choice?"
"Yes."
"Then be it as you wish."
Palpatine turned, and the lightsaber cleaved Heather in half. They both felt her death at that moment.
"If you did not notice," Palpatine said to the camera, "this is indeed one of the Jedi's weapons - a weapon that they unlawfully use. If you see one of these in the hands of someone who should not posses one, please, contact your nearest government representative. You will find that the government would be thankful if you could aid us in this matter."
The image flicked off, accompanied by the words "We now rejoin our regularly scheduled program, already in progress..."
Bret turned off the holovid. "Definitely canned and edited," he snorted. "No white flash. Might ruin the Second Imperium's 'good' image."
But Danielle was deep in thought and did not answer.
He waved a hand in front of her face. She started and blinked. "Sorry," she said. "What did you say?"
"It's not important - just a little sarcasm," he replied. "What were you thinking about?"
"That lightsaber," she mummered. "It was my grandfather's; it belonged to his father."
"Luke Skywalker's?" Bret asked. She nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she replied. "I saw it many times."
"And now he uses it to destroy the Jedi," Bret said. "I wonder how many noticed the irony."
"I don't know," Danielle said, "but I know he used it for that reason. And he knew that at least some of the Jedi would know. It was aimed at us. The rest of the public was just a sideshow. I don't think he cared about that at all."
"I think you're right."
Danielle had a bounty on her head. A big bounty. A million credits. But she lived with it, and went on with her life. She ran into some bounty hunters, but had never had a problem with them, because even though her training was yet unfinished, none of them had the slightest on how to deal with a Jedi. She was now seventeen.
Her life went on, until she ran into Clite. She had not known that she was so high on the Emperor's hate list until then, and it came as somewhat of a surprise.
There was a snap-hiss behind her, and she whirled, recognizing Clite immediately, and the green-bladed lightsaber that he carried. It still hurt her that she had been unable to save that family heirloom, and she hated the thought of the weapon of one such as Luke Skywalker in the hands of Sidious Palpatine and his son Clite.
Her left hand had flown to her lightsaber as she turned, and the moment she had seen Clite, she had pulled it from her belt, yet did not ignite it. She held it in an easy en guarde position, ready for anything the Sith might pull.
"Ah," Clite said. "The last Skywalker. The last of your family, Danielle?"
"What do you want?" she asked Clite, ignoring his goad, yet the lightsaber that her grandfather had built during his training felt clammy in her hands. She knew that she could not defeat Clite.
"Merely your surrender," Clite said. "Put down your lightsaber, and come peacefully with me."
Snap-hiss. She turned her lightsaber on. "I will not surrender to you."
"Then you will die," Clite said. "Like the rest of your family. Like you saw your grandfather die."
She felt a flash of anger at that, but let it go, not willing to allow herself to indulge her temper. "Nor will I let you goad me into anger," she said.
"Good," Clite said. "Your training has gone further than had I thought. Surrender and allow yourself to turn. You will find that the dark side has many rewards to give you."
"I will not turn."
"Then I am sure that my father will regret not being able to kill you himself," Clite said. "But let me tell you that even your great-grandfather died at the hands of the Empire. And you are no Jedi Master. You will die."
"Then I die." Danielle was far calmer than she thought she would be.
"And no more Skywalkers to defeat us?" Clite mocked her. "Indeed, this is a good day." Swinging in high, he attacked.
Danielle was good, but not good enough. It was not long before she found herself falling back before Clite's onslaught, and she knew that she was losing. It was about five minutes later when her grandfather's lightsaber flew from her hands.
"And now, Skywalker, you will die at the blow of your great-grandfather's lightsaber," Clite said. He drew his wrists back, preparing to swing.
Danielle prepared herself for oneness with the Force.
But it did not come, and there was a second snap-hiss and the humming of her grandfather's lightsaber as the tip of its blade found a resting place near the base of Clite's neck.
"Turn of the lightsaber, Clite," a voice came from behind the Sith. Its owner was in a black hooded cloak, his - the voice was definitely masculine - face unseen, his voice even.
Clite turned it off, and realization dawned on his face. "You!" he said, his voice laced with venom.
Danielle jumped back as the Sith ignited the lightsaber and spun toward the man in the cloak. The man twisted his wrists down and blocked it, the blades sparking with energy.
"How are you alive?" Clite hissed at the man, who was clearly experienced with a lightsaber.
"Let us say that I never died, Clite," the man replied.
"Impossible!" Clite chopped at the man's head, who blocked it easily.
"Is it so?" the man countered. "You did not see me die."
"You could not have lived."
"Again, Clite, you underestimate the light side." The man feinted at the Emperor's son, and then dove in, controlling his movements and striking with the ease of experience. "I would not let you win so easily then," he continued, "nor will I now."
"This is no concern of yours, Jedi," Clite spat out at the man, doing his best to defend himself, and not succeeding. "Return to the grave, Skywalker."
"Return?" he asked. "I do hate to disappoint you, Clite, but as I said before, I never died."
Skywalker? Danielle wondered. I thought I was the last...
"You must of died," Clite sputtered, as the man continued to advance, pushing him back. "Even you could not have lived through that."
"Yet I did not die," the man - "Skywalker" - said. "And this does concern me." Clite's lightsaber - her great-grandfather's lightsaber - flew from his hands. "Surrender." The man's saber changed into a one-handed hold and moved to the Sith's throat.
"Kill me." Clite's voice held contempt and a challenge.
"As much of a service that would be for the galaxy, I must decline your offer," the man said. "For as you know, Clite, I will not strike you down as you would me."
"Cut me down."
"No."
"No?" Clite taunted him. "It seems that you would hate me. Or do you fear me instead?"
The man allowed himself a soft laugh. "Hate?" he asked evenly. "Fear? A Jedi knows not these things."
"You do not?" Clite asked. "Are you so sure? For I know you want to cut me down."
"And become what you are?" the man asked. "I think not. I do not wish to destroy you, Clite, and even if I did, I would not. Surrender."
"No."
"No?" the man asked. "Then I will give you another choice. Deliver a message to you father."
"What?" Clite's voice was filled with anger.
"Tell him that your Empire will not stand," the man said softly. "And not to attempt to destroy the Jedi, for it may be harder to do than he realizes."
"And who will stop him?" Clite taunted. "You?"
"If need be, I will."
"You have grown old, Skywalker. And you are years out of your time. Are you not like your mentor now?" Clite challenged him.
With his left hand, the man reached up and removed his hood. His face was that of a young man, with blond hair and startlingly deep blue eyes. "Am I so old?" he asked.
"You can not be that young!" Clite hissed. "Not without clones!"
"Yet you know, as I do, that I would not use them," he replied.
"Then what did you do?" Clite was incredulous.
"I will tell you the secret, Clite," the man said, "since, apon the road you tread, you will never be able to use it.
"Understand this: the light does not do as the dark does. I embrace the light, and it has allowed me to live as I do.
"Know this: I will stop you. And your father. Your Empire will not stand for long. Not so long as I stand."
"You are not invulnerable," Clite stampered.
"No, I am not," he said softly. "But I know what can happen with mere belief in the light. And I know that in the light, you can not stand for long."
"Ah, but in the dark we can," Clite replied. "And that is how the hologram is now. You, my friend, will not stand long in the dark!"
"It takes but one match to light a dark room, Clite," the man said. "If need be, I will be that match. The Jedi will rise again."
"You will die!" Clite hissed. "This time for real."
"I may have to die," the man said. "But if I do, I will do so for something I believe in. And you may kill me, but I will not die."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Clite's tone was haughty.
"Something that you will never understand."
"You will die. Painfully," Clite said. "I will be sure of that."
"Perhaps."
Clite's tone took on an icy edge. "Know this, Skywalker: your blood is cursed, as are you. Everyone you touch you will have to fear for. Everyone you care for will die because of you. Remember this, and fear the curse of a Palpatine."
"And remember this, Clite," the man said, snapping Danielle's lightsaber away from Clite's throat. "Remember that your father fears me."
"You will die," Clite cursed, and hitting his communicator, disappeared.
"Someday, we all die," the man mummered to himself.
Danielle looked at him curiously. He looked so much like her grandfather, though younger, only years older than her...
"I believe this belongs to you," he said to her, breaking into her thoughts. He tossed her the lightsaber he held, and moved in the direction of the saber that had once belonged to her great-grandfather. Reaching it, he bent over and picked it up from the ground, studying it.
"As should that," Danielle said, not willing to allow that lightsaber to fall into the Empire's hands once more.
He looked at her and chuckled. "Perhaps," he laughed.
She wanted to protest; even opened her mouth to do so, but found herself asking "Who are you?"
He smiled. "I doubt you'd believe me if I told you. I take it you are a Skywalker?"
"Yes," she replied. "The last. And thank you, for saving my life."
"You're welcome," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?" the man replied.
"Why did you save my life?" Danielle clarified.
"For many reasons," he began, "one of which is that I do not like to see Jedi killed."
"Are you a Jedi?" she asked.
He nodded slightly. "Yes."
"Excuse me for asking so, but if you are, where is your lightsaber?" Danielle wondered.
"Perhaps we should talk somewhere else," he replied.
"Why?"
"This is not the most secure of places," he said.
"Oh." Danielle paused. "I don't mean to be rude, but why should I trust you? I know you just saved my life, but I do not have an easy time trusting people."
"Ask your feelings," he said. "Trust them."
"I do," she replied, but strangely enough, her feelings said to trust him, and besides, Clite had called him "Skywalker". "All right," she said. "Where do you want to go?"
"Let's go outside," he said, for the entire confrontation had happened in the lower levels of a spaceport.
"Okay." She followed him.
They stepped outside, into the outer terrace of a cantina, and sat down at a table. A male Devaronian came up to them.
"May I help you and take a drink order?" he asked.
The man glanced at Danielle. "Water," she said.
The Devaronian looked at her companion. "The same," he replied.
"Are you sure?" the Devaronian asked them. "The house offers an excellent selection of beers and other beverages..."
"We're sure," the man replied.
"All right..." the Devaronian left them, clearly looking for more entertaining customers.
"Are we safe enough to talk now?" Danielle asked.
"We should be," the man replied, glancing around them quickly. "Ask whatever you want to; I'll do my best to answer."
"Are you a Skywalker?" she asked him.
"Yes."
"But I thought I was the only one left." Now she was confused; her grandfather had said they were the last.
"So did Palpatine."
"Who are you?" She had to ask it; she could not stand it any longer. This man looked so much like a her grandfather, as if her grandfather had been an older version of this man.
He also looked like her father, from what little she remembered...
He touched her hand gently from across the table, and to her surprise, she did not start. "I am sorry to say, Danielle, that I am not your father," he said softly. "Your father is dead."
"I know that," she said sharply, not understanding how this man had known her thoughts so easily. "Where is the lightsaber?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.
He pulled his hand from his lap. "Right here," he said.
"Let me have it." She was unsettled, and wanted something familiar, something timeless, to hold. He kept it just out of her reach, though, causing her to ask: "Where is your own lightsaber?"
"Right here," he repeated, nodding to the one in his hand.
"What?" That made no sense...
"Danielle," he said, "I do not look like your father; he looks like me. I am your great-grandfather."
"That's impossible," she said.
"Is it?" His voice was soft and even.
"He is dead," Danielle stampered. "The Emperor killed him."
"I am alive," he said in the same tone. "I never died."
"How?"
"No one ever felt my death," he said, "because I did not die. Years after turning myself over to Sidious Palpatine in exchange for the Sun Crusher, I escaped. But I was far too injured to do anyone a bit of good. And by then, the Second Imperium ruled, the Order was almost destroyed, and as was almost all of my family. I had felt so many Jedi die during my imprisonment that I did not know who to find, or even where to start looking. So I went to the one place that I knew far better than any other; I went to Yavin 4.
"There I found my old droid, R2-D2, and found out about much more of what had happened while I was in captivity. I also found out just how long it had been."
"How long had it been?" Danielle asked.
"It had been seventy years," he said.
"Then where were you for the last five years?" she challenged him. "If you are who you say you are."
"It took me five years to heal," was his reply.
"Heal from what?" she asked. "Though I know it would have taken him a long time to die" her grandfather had said long ago.
"Palpatine could never of held me for so long without keeping me injured," he said evenly, "and he did far more than just that."
"Danielle, this might be hard for you to comprehend, but your great-grandfather was not killed by merely being chopped in half by Palpatine. And Palpatine would never have been content to do just that. Palpatine tortured him to death because he knew he could not win any other way."
Her grandfather's words. Could this really be his father? "He tortured you to death." It was not really a question.
"Yes, he tortured me," the man replied. "But only nearly to death. I did not die."
"Then how do you look so young?" she asked in disbelief. "And how are you alive? He did not let you live, did he?"
"No," he answered. "He did not let me live. Until now, he has thought me dead, like everyone else, though he knew that I had survived far longer than any other knew.
"It was the Force that sustained me," he continued. "And by abandoning myself to it, I was able to survive. I do not know why I look so young as I do, but I am Luke Skywalker."
Danielle frowned.
"What?" he asked.
"For some crazy reason," she said, "I believe you. And I'm wondering if I should just lock myself up, or wait for the Emperor to do it for me."
He chuckled. "Then I am assured that you are my great-granddaughter," he said with a smile, "for only a Skywalker would believe something so crazy so easily. Or trust their instincts so readily."
"I think its more the first one," she said. "Am I going nuts?"
"Only if I am, too," Luke Skywalker replied. "But on the subject of locking you up, don't make Sidious happy. Stay free."
"Sounds good to me."