a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...





			STAR WARS_______________

  			      CALL TO ARMS

			______________EPISODE IV


			The Republic is again in 
		       turmoil.   An unseen enemy
		      murders Jedi at  every turn, 
		     and   an   unidentified  fleet 
		    attacks innocent trading vessels
		   without provocation.

		  While desperate Senators try to keep
		 the government together,  an old enemy 
		again raises its ugly head,  threatening
	       all that the Jedi stand for.

	      Now, and in the face of the bitter end, the
	     children of a  legend must  prove  themselves 
	    worthy of  carrying on his legacy,  and somehow
	   save everything worth fighting for...




		
Prologue:

(18 years before _Call to Arms_)

	"Anakin."
	Blinking away tears, Anakin looked up at Mace Windu.  It 
was a break of protocol for him not to stand as the senior Jedi 
approached, but at that point, he didn't care.  Fortunately, Windu
didn't seem overly concerned with protocol at the moment.
	"Obi-Wan is dead," Windu said softly.
	"I know," Anakin said sourly.  His best friend, his master...
Like Obi-Wan had once said, you never expected to lose them so soon.
And Obi-Wan, like Qui-Gon Jinn, dead so soon... It did not matter that
Anakin was no longer eight years old, and far beyond being a Padawan.
His heart still ached the way it had when Qui-Gon had died, all those
years ago.
	"We know it is hard for you, Anakin," Windu said, laying a 
gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder.  "But his seat on the Council is now
empty."
 	"So?" Skywalker inquired bitterly.  Obi-Wan had sat on the Jedi
Council for all of five years before now... And now he was dead.
	"We would like you to take it."
	Anakin looked at him incredulously.  "What?"  He'd only been
acknowledged as a Master for what now, four years?  He had trained his
own Padawan, sure, but still...
	Windu just nodded.
	"Why?" Anakin asked.  "I've broken all the rules..."
	"Sometimes," Windu said softly, "that can be a good thing.
We may not always agree with you, but you are the chosen one.  Your 
influence and ideas are more than welcome."
	_Besides,_ Anakin thought, _it would be a great public 
relations gesture._  The media had loved his rags-to-riches story, 
beginning as a slave, then marrying a Queen...  There would be a field
day if he was appointed to the Council. 
	But the Jedi were largely apolitical, and even though their
popularity had dropped in recent years, the Council would not just
welcome him for his good looks and popularity.  If they said they 
wanted him, they meant it.
	One last hedge:  "I'm going to have a kid in seven months,"
he reminded Windu.
	"We know."
	Anakin elected not to ask how they knew that.  Any one of the
Council could have guessed it, sensed it, but he didn't want to know 
which one of them.
	"Okay," he replied.

	Carter Nas, Jedi Master, looked at the interloper suspiciously.
"Who are you?" he asked.  Not like it really mattered.  The son of a 
bitch had his wife, and he was going to get her back.
	Only then did he notice that the man wore a lightsaber.
	"Me?" the man asked innocently.  "I am your brother, Carter."
	"Brother?"  Carter had, like most Jedi, never known his family.
	"Yeah," the man smiled, somewhat sheepishly.
	Carter found himself smiling, almost against his will.  "I 
always wanted a brother," he commented, stepping forward to greet the
sibling he'd never known - and feeling cheated for the first time in his
life.
	Edwin, his brother, stepped forward, as if to embrace him; then 
for a split second, Carter sensed the beginnings of something...  He
never knew what hit him.
	And so fell the first Jedi.

(One year later)
	"I may respect the Jedi, Annie, but I am not giving them my
children."  Her voice was reasonable, but Anakin knew that his wife 
was feeling anything but reasonable inside.
	"I don't agree with it either," he said softly.
	"So what are you going to do about it?" Amidala demanded.
	"I don't know what I can do," he replied.
	"You're a Jedi Master, aren't you?" the question was rhetoric.
She knew the answer.  "You can train them."
	"Ama, it's not that simple," he objected.
	"Isn't it?"
	Anakin had to remember that this was the Queen who'd convinced
a Senate once, long ago, to find new leadership.  She could talk a Jawa
out of his power-converters, if she wanted to.  He sighed.
	Amidala continued:  "Look at them.  They're your children, too.
Do you want them to loose their senses of identity?  Do you want them 
to not know their parents?"
	"No," he said softly.
	She laid a loving hand on his arm.  "I know everyone does it.
But that doesn't make it right."
	He smiled at her.  "They're going to raise hell about in on 
Council."
	"So?  What can they do to you, kick you out?" she asked.
	"Well, that _would_ be nice," he joked.  "But no.  Yoda will
just go into a lengthy discourse about the dangers of Jedi training 
their own children, Jedi _having_ children, Jedi getting married..."
	"Hmmm.  Sounds like a Senate meeting."
	"Worse."
	"But you'll endure it, of course," Amidala said.
	He smiled at her.  _Let me count how many ways I love you..._
"Of course."

	"Who are you?" Marissa asked the hooded man.  He was dark; she
could tell.  It didn't matter that he couldn't sense anything because 
of the... what was it called?  Ysa-something or another.
	"Who am I?" he asked reasonably.  "I am called Darth Sidious."
	She felt her jaw drop open, despite her normal self-control.
"You're the Sith they never found."
	He smiled.  His was not a nice smile.  "That I am."
	"What do you want with me?" she demanded.  Not like she could
do much, behind bars and unable to feel the Force.
	"Want?" he asked.  "I want nothing."  Again, he smiled, icy cold
and without humor.  "But I do have an offer for you."
	"An offer?" Marissa scoffed.
	"Serve me, and I do not kill you," he replied.
	"Never."  Was he mad, to think a Jedi would turn so easily?
	"Serve me, and I spare the life of your unborn child," he said.
	She gaped.  How did he know...?
	"Ah, yes," he mummered.  "It will be a daughter, I believe."
	"You wouldn't."  But she knew he would.
	"Don't test me, Marissa."
	And so fell another Jedi.



approaching Ralltiir, the Fakir Sector

	"Master Anakin, are you sure about this?" See-Threepio's 
nattering voice demanded.
	"No, I'm not, Threepio," he replied, trying to conceal his
irritation.  Sometimes he regretted building that droid.
	"Master Anakin, I feel obligated to inform you that coming 
here is probably a very bad idea."
	"And why's that, Threepio?" he asked idly, not really paying
attention.  There was something odd about Ralltiir... it was as if 
something was stirring there.  Something was beginning on this small,
previously insignificant, planet.
	"Master Anakin, if the trouble started here, isn't this the
_last_ place we should be going, sir?"
	"Not if we want to uncover why the trouble got started, my 
friend," Anakin replied.
	"But it's dangerous!" Threepio wailed.
	"And I'm a Jedi.  Danger is in my line of work," Skywalker 
pointed out.  "Now stop complaining.  I have to think.
	"I don't know why I get into this," Threepio moaned, but
fell silent as bid.
	Five minutes later, Anakin had gotten little further in his 
thinking, save to understand one thing - there was something gathering
on Ralltiir, and it gave him a feeling that he hadn't felt in years...
	Not since a warm summer day in Naboo, deep in the hanger, 
standing before the doorway that would lead into a palace and victory...
And a heartwrenching defeat for one man.  Anakin blinked a tear from
his eye.  Qui-Gon had been the closest he'd ever had to a father.
	_Not now.  Regrets and mourning have their place, and they 
belonged years ago.  Now, if I must think of Qui-Gon, it will be to 
honor his life,_ Anakin thought.
	_And I will do that by uncovering the evil that lies here._
	The ship thudded down onto the landing pad.  "Threepio, 
how long do we have until I'm supposed to meet with the King?"
	"One hour, fourteen minutes, sir," the droid replied primly.
"And thirty-one seconds."
	The captain - actually, Anakin knew he was a smuggler, but 
didn't care - spoke from behind him.  "Good luck," Solo said gruffly.
"You'll need it."
	Anakin allowed himself a small smile.  "I don't much believe 
in luck," he replied.
	"Well, if I were you, I'd trust in it more than I'd trust in 
the 'Force' that you believe in," the smuggler replied.
	"And why's that?" Anakin inquired.  If he'd had more time, it'd 
have been interesting to get in a philosophical discussion with the 
man, but there were too many important things to do without tying 
himself up needlessly.
	"I only believe in things that you can touch and feel," Solo 
responded.
	The Jedi Master chuckled as he walked down the ramp.  "You'll
believe," he said, without looking back.  "And someday, it will touch 
you."

	Solo looked at the retreating back of the Jedi.  _He's crazy,_ 
Han thought.  _Touch me?  Whatever._
	_Mystical powers ain't no match for a good blaster at my side._
	"Let's get out of here, Lando," he called to his partner.

	"Who are you?" Anakin asked, a half an hour later.
	His only answer was laughter.


	
the Jedi Temple, Coruscant

	_Why am I pacing?_ Luke Skywalker asked himself.  _Kim will pass
the trials, there is no doubt about that.  She is strong, and she is 
ready._  It was unheard of for him to have trained his first
Padawan at so young of an age - Luke was only eighteen.  Of course, 
Kim's training had begun under another - Ki-Adi Mindu... until Ki had 
been murdered.
	Many considered it odd, because Luke and Kim were the same age -
but when someone mentioned _that_ Luke merely laughed, and pointed out 
that Kim was actually three months older than him.  But that just horrified
the order more.
	Those same Jedi had been equally - if not more - horrified when 
Luke had passed the trails himself, at the tender old age of fourteen.
But not one of them had argued that he was not ready.
	He sighed.  He was not nervous for Kim; she would do fine.  Nineteen
seemed too young to become a Jedi, but Kim, like himself, was different.
She was very strong, and like him, her father had been a Jedi - but her 
mother had also been a Jedi.  Unlike him, she had lost them both at an 
early age.  They, like Ki, had been murdered by the enemy none could see,
and only Luke could feel.
	Of course, no one believed _that._
	_Why am I pacing?_ he asked himself again.  _What bothers me so?_
He searched his thoughts, his feelings.  _Dad,_ he realized.
	_Something is dreadfully wrong._  Luke reached deep into the Force,
probing it for what it was that made him so uneasy...
	Then the feeling hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks, sending 
him to his knees as it consumed him.

	Five minutes later, Mace Windu emerged from the Council room, 
surprised to find Luke on his knees.  He must be meditating, he thought at 
first.  Unless he knew...
	And if Skywalker knew already, across all that distance, perhaps 
it had not been the father...
	"Luke," he said softly.  "I have good and bad news."
	"The bad."  It was hardly a question.  It was as if he _knew_ 
already.
	"Your father is dead," Mace said softly.
	Skywalker looked up at him.  His blue eyes were red-rimmed, but he was 
in control.  "I know."
	Windu found himself again wondering how, even though he knew that Luke 
must have sensed it.
	"Kim passed."  Again, it was not a question.  Luke rose, seemingly 
not really expecting an answer.  Windu gave him one anyway.
	"Yes," he replied.  "You know, of course, that it makes you a 
recognized Jedi Master."
	Luke nodded as Kim came through the door, and Windu saw him turn 
to her, his own pain pushed aside.  But there was one last thing.  "Your 
mother?" the Council member asked.
	The young man looked at him briefly, silently, his demeanor, now, more 
than ever, that of a Jedi Master.  Skywalker had never needed to be acknowledged 
as a Master, Mace knew.  He had been one since the day he passed the trials.
	"I will tell her," Master Skywalker replied.

	"My Master," Luke said calmly.  "I know that you do not agree, but I
have to know what happened."
	"Your place it is not, to investigate," Yoda replied crossly.
	"Then whose is it?" Luke demanded - still calm, still cool, yet not
willing to give in an inch.  "We all know that _something_ killed my father.
I want to know what."
	"Know we will, with time."
	"I don't think we have time," Luke said softly.
	Mace Windu spoke.  "What do you mean?" he asked.
	Luke took a deep breath and spoke slowly.  He knew they wouldn't believe
him, but he had to try.  "I sense something out there; something dark.  It's been 
gathering for a long time."
	"You're saying that's what killed your father," Windu stated.
	"Yes," Luke confirmed.  "I am."
	"Unlikely that is," Yoda said softly.
	"The last Sith we know of was killed fifty years ago," Windu pointed out.
	"There are always two," Luke quoted softly.  "'A master, and an apprentice.'
_You_ have always said that.  I do not believe we have seen the last of the Sith."
	"Gone the Sith are," Yoda snapped.  "Gone they have been.  Sensed them we
would have, if they were alive."
	"Would you?  Would anyone?"  Luke breached etiquette - did not care - and
crossed his arms.  "They could have existed for millennia before they chose to show
themselves fifty years ago.  The fact that you have not sensed them does not mean
they aren't there!"
	Luke stared definitely at Master Yoda, the strongest objector, the most 
stubborn of them all, daring him to mention his momentary lapse of control, his 
emotional outbreak.  Daring him to defy the truth.
	Silently, he watched the council members exchange glances.  It was crunch
time - would they listen, or would they simply throw him out?  He could make a case
for each... yet he was not finished.  He would make his point, but now he would do it
as a Jedi Master - not one yet their equal, but nearly so.  He would tell them the 
truth as they should know it, and hope they had enough imagination to _believe_.
	And when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
	"You have always said I was different.  You said it about my father, and you 
say it about me...  Yet even though no one said it, I have always known I am different
from not only all of you, but from him as well.  Now you must trust in that difference.
You must believe that I can sense something you can not.
	"There is something dark out there.  It's growing, it's building... and I _know_
it killed my father.  And I have to find out what it is.  I will go with, or without,
your permission.  But I would rather go with."
	Surprise registered on all their faces; they were not accustomed to being 
challenged, being told they were wrong - and not by a eighteen-year-old boy who had
already broken every rule the order was based upon.  Luke knew he'd dropped the 
bombshell, knew that they would never acquiesce to his going - yet he also knew that 
he was not lying.  He would go, no matter what.  He had to go.
	Yoda was the first to recover.  "Forbidden, that is!"
	Softly, Luke answered him.  "I know."
	Windu tried to placate him.  "If anyone is sent, it will be a task force," he
said.  "One equipped to deal with whatever they face there."
	"Yet you will not send me because you feel I am too personally involved to
be objective."  Luke didn't need a sudden Force-insight to tell him that; he had
known it all along, ever since he had stepped into that room, ever since his father's 
death.  He knew it in the way that he knew darkness was rising.  The Force told him;
he did not have to look.  He'd never had to look.
	"You are personally involved," Adi Gallia reminded him.
	Luke kept his cool, kept himself composed, and tried to reason with them.
"And that is why I have to go," he said, knowing, even then, that it would not work.
He knew they would not listen.  "I can feel this.  I can locate it."
	Windu raised an eyebrow.  "You want to face whatever this is alone?" he 
asked.
	Luke shook his head.  "No.  What I want is to leave now, to take one or two
others with me.  I know I can find out what killed him.  I know I can find the 
darkness."
	"So sure you are of the darkness there," Yoda replied.
	Luke looked the old Jedi in the eye.  "And you are so sure that it's not."
	The silence caused by his remark was incredibly heavy; Luke knew he'd 
just crossed over an invisible line.  Eleven sets of cold eyes stared at him, aghast 
at his insolence - yet that only reminded Luke of the empty chair.  His father's 
chair.
	"Watch yourself, Jedi," Eeth Koth warned quietly, and Luke turned to face
him.
	"Can you not see the truth?" he demanded - still cold, still in control, yet
feeling their disbelief like a stake into his heart.  "Can you not believe me?  You
hold me as different, but can not _believe_ that I might feel something you don't."
He turned to face them all, one by one in their shocked silence, before speaking 
again.  "I may be young, but I know what I feel."
	Silence again reigned as they discussed their options silently.  Luke could
have listened, could have interjected - could have done anything he wanted without
their knowing - yet did not.  He respected their privacy and their desires, and
despised the fact that he knew they would never agree with him.  Still he waited, 
hoping that his instincts were wrong.
	Even though they'd never been before.
	Finally Windu faced him.  "We can not allow you to go," he said bluntly.
"Nor will we allow anyone to accompany you if you choose to do so on your own."
	Luke had been prepared for this, and even though the words left a foul, 
bitter taste in his mouth - and a fouler one in his soul, for he knew it could 
doom him - he spoke.  "Then I will go alone."
	"Dangerous, that is," Yaddle said softly.  She, it seemed, understood just
a little.
	Luke nodded.  "I know."  He addressed the whole council again.  "But I must
go."  Without being given leave, he moved to the door, speaking to them over his 
shoulder.  "Perhaps someday you will understand."
	He turned to look at them, one last time, knowing he would not return from
where he was going... at least not for an eternity.  "May the Force be with you all,"
he said; but he did not say the rest - _You will need it_.



once again, Ralltiir