Jedi Dawn – Chapter 3
By Sienn (2001)
Rating (for chapter): PG-13
Protagonists: Luke/Mara
Category: Drama/Action/Angst
Time Frame: 26 A.Y. (After the Battle of Yavin IV)
Spoilers:
See Chapter 1
Disclaimer:
See Chapter 1
Coruscant, Imperial Palace, Solo Apartment, 3 Days After The Battle of Ithor
The sunrise of Coruscant was a wonderful sight, appreciated by many of the billions of beings living on the city planet.
When all you could see day in, day out were grey buildings of permabeton and glass, it was a renewing experience to witness the sun turning everything into a brilliant landscape of red and orange.
Similar to a lava flow, the sun's rays poured over the skyscrapers, speeders and public places, setting them on fire and announcing another beautiful day in the planet's summer.
On this planet, millions of kilometres away from the battlefields on which the fate of the galaxy had been decided, people were blissfully unaware that they were threatened. The Senate had issued a complete stop on news reports concerning anything related to the Yuuzhan Vong. All possible efforts had been taken to get the refugees to planets as far away from Coruscant as possible. The Chief-of-State had been all too aware of what would happen if the New Republic's population learnt about this extragalactic peril.
There was one man, though, that had access to all available data - a man that was intertwined directly with all these terrible fights and battles - a man that did his best to make himself forget the rest of the galaxy.
Han Solo groaned wearily when he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom where shadows were playing whenever speeders and freighters made their way out to space.
In times of peace, he and Leia had often enjoyed these early hours of the day, watching the shadows' play and relishing the feeling of being wrapped in each other's arms.
In times of peace.
There was no peace in the galaxy anymore. Han sighed loudly while he made a vain attempt to sit up.
'Too much ale,' he thought sarcastically. It was always too much ale.
Since that day on Sernpidal, since he had seen the last minutes of his best friend, Han had lived in a kind of bubble, isolated from the world outside it. Chewie's death had shaken him deeply and had shown him that his family was in danger - not that they hadn't been before.
But as Han had said to Leia that day some months ago, now the invincibility was gone.
Not one of the many forces that had arrayed themselves to defeat first the Alliance and then the New Republic had succeeded in killing anyone of Han's close friends.
And then there came some curious aliens from another galaxy, just murdering his very best friend.
Although this incident had shown Han all too clearly that he could loose any member of his family in the next second, especially with the Yuuzhan Vong involved, his reaction to this had been absurd.
In his rare, clear moments, he recognised this himself.
Instead of being at the side of his family, he created a wall around himself, pushing them away, refusing all attempts to help.
Han didn't know why he had done it and why he still did it.
At moments like this, when memories of his life during the rare times of peace washed over him, he missed Leia terribly.
He wished so much to have her in his arms now, to talk to her - to tell her that he was sorry for treating her like this, but that he just hadn't been able to act otherwise.
But Leia wasn't there.
Han didn't even know where she was. Probably on the front, fighting the Yuuzhan Vong, risking her life to guarantee the freedom of the galaxy. And he should help her, for Force's sake.
Instead, he hid in his apartment, drinking, mourning and heading straight down the path towards a nice depression.
Han snorted.
'What is it', he wondered, 'that people always know that they're making a mistake and still can't prevent it?'
He knew perfectly well that drinking and wallowing in old memories wouldn't help him any. It was over. Chewie was dead and he would never return.
'Why is it so hard to accept this?' Han silently asked himself, looking at his picture in the mirror opposite his bed.
"Scruffy-looking. Yeah, babe, you're right." He mumbled, smiling thinly when he recalled Leia's vivid anger so many years ago.
Leia.
He needed her so desperately. Nevertheless, stubborn pride prevented him from investigating her whereabouts, from finding her, going to her, talking to her - apologising to her.
During the last few months, he'd usually ponder this question all day, carefully balanced with grief and sadness over Chewie's dead, and while pondering, he would drink one ale, two ales, three ales - up to a number where he would just slump over on his table and fall asleep, to wake up sometime in deep night, stumbling to his bed and sinking again into oblivion.
And as every morning in the past few months, Han got out of the bed, stared at his haggard face with the red, glassy eyes and the beard - he had just forgotten to shave - and almost shuddered with disgust.
Again, he promised himself not to drink alcohol today, not to sink into this sea of self-pity and to finally get things straight with his family and Leia. 'You won't make it,' the vicious little voice of his conscience whispered.
Han knew it was probably right.
Slowly, he went over to the kitchen and forced himself to make a caf instead of going over to his mini-bar and taking a little Corellian Whiskey.
Perhaps when he was more awake, he could shave this beard off. Leia had never liked him with a beard anyway.
Thinking thoroughly, it wouldn't be bad to take a shower, too. Just for fun, Han tried to remember when he had last showered. He was definitely not able to recall it.
Shaking his head, Han poured down a whole cup of strong caf and was utterly surprised that it seemed to work.
He felt a lot clearer. A look at the caf maker showed him why - he had forced the machine to give caf powder intended for six cups into one single cup.
He pursed his lips. Well, he had to be really down if he did drink something like THIS.
"But when it helps," he muttered. After another cup of this dead drink, he decided to really take a shower and shave.
And if his mood were still ok after this, he'd try to contact someone with influence and find out where Leia was.
Yeah, he would probably be able to manage that.
Happy to have finally decided to do SOMETHING, Han began to make his way to the bathroom, passing the communication unit in the living room.
Surprised, he noticed that there were two lights blinking.
Someone had called him!
Seen for itself, that was, of course, nothing special. But since Han hadn't been answering calls for his person for a few months now and people had just given up trying, he was more than a little bit appalled that someone dared intrude into his little world.
Gruffly swearing to himself, he keyed in his access code and chose the first communication.
He almost dropped his half-empty caf-cup, the third, when Leia's head appeared.
Force, she was so beautiful. It hurt him when he realised that he had almost forgotten how beautiful his wife was.
Enchanted, he sank onto the sofa, not listening to what she said. He just watched her face intently; the familiar brown eyes, her soft features, the beautiful lips.
He longed for her, wanted to hold and to kiss her. But it was already wonderful to just see her.
What she said was not important.
When the communication ended, Han found himself smiling dumbly, pressing the button for the next communication, and hoping absurdly that it was another call from Leia.
He grinned broadly when she appeared again, indeed, but one close look at her face let him inhale sharply. She was pale and obviously more than a little bit worried. Once and again, her eyes darted to her left, to something or someone invisible to Han.
Worried, the Corellian forced himself to listen.
"Han, I don't know if you didn't get my first call two days ago or if you're not at home at all. Anyway, if you hear this, please come to Ithor. Luke's condition has not significantly bettered - he needs you. I try to be there for himm as often as I can, but there is so much to do after the battle."
'Battle?' Han thought, 'What battle? Luke's condition?'
"If you get this message, Han, and if you still care, then come here as soon as you can."
With this, she ended the transmission abruptly. No 'I love you'; no 'I miss you'.
But Han noted this just at the fringes of his perception. What had him worried far more were the words 'Luke's condition'.
Was the kid injured? What battle, Minions of Xendor?
Angry at himself for having become that oblivious of what was going on, he keyed for the Fleet Office, said his proper code and accessed the newest memorandums.
It had advantages to be married to a former Chief-of-State and now official Ambassador, he thought - as he had often in his life.
But his small grin faded when he read the reports.
The New Republic's ships had been totally messed up by the Yuuzhan Vong on Ithor. Hardly anyone had survived.
Nonetheless, the encounter was listed as victory. Han thought what curious view of a victory the Fleet Office had when his eyes shifted to the last lines.
"The Yuuzhan Vong fleet has been almost completely destroyed due to the single-handed effort of Jedi Master Skywalker. Damage to the planet of Ithor itself has been prevented more than we could have hoped for, thanks to the Jedi Knights who have fought bravely, though outnumbered, against the warriors assaulting Ithor."
'Single-handed effort??'
These words left Han dumbfounded. Luke, alone against a whole fleet of Yuuzhan Vong?
It sounded incredible. But Luke or Leia would never have allowed this to be written if it were not true.
So there had to be something to it.
Nervously, Han asked for the current whereabouts of Luke Skywalker and demanded a connection to the ship he was on immediately.
First he had to talk to Luke - making sure that he was ok. Then he'd investigate, carefully, how Leia was – particularly concerning her present attitude towards him.
Strangely enough, he had to find out that he wasn't able to establish a connection with Luke. As to the comm unit, Luke didn't even exist.
Dread washed over Han when he recalled Leia's words - 'Luke's condition'.
He had to be injured then - gravely injured obviously.
Han tightened, deciding to listen to Leia's first call, from three days ago.
"Hello, Han. As I see, you're once again not at home. I just wanted to inform you that we have won above Ithor. The kids are fine."
Han sighed and relaxed a bit.
"However, Luke is not. Han, you have to get to Ithor as soon as you can. Please take the Falcon immediately after you receive this call and come here. Luke needs you." She paused.
The dread Han felt slowly became outright fear.
Leia continued: "This channel ought to be secure. I can't give you all the details, though, only so much: Luke suffered a grave nervous breakdown and he's asking for you."
For the first time, her eyes became a little bit softer: "I know you still care for him, Han. Please come soon."
The transmission ended.
'I know you still care for him??'
What did she mean? Of course he cared!!
Swearing, Han darted back into his bedroom and began packing some clothes into his travelling back.
Three days!!! She had contacted him three days ago! Luke was ill and he had been drinking and sleeping, snoring and amusing himself with sabbacc games against a computer nearly as bad as the kid.
Han paused when the events finally sank in totally. He had been so centred on his own grief that he had completely neglected his friends. He didn't even know what had happened in the last couple of months. Since the victory on Helska 4, Han had been in this depressed state, ignoring everyone and everything. And now he heard that Luke, his friend, his little brother, had had a nervous breakdown!!
It jerked him out of his stupor. He had to go to Ithor. And on his way, he'd bring himself up to date with all developments in the war against the Yuuzhan Vong.
Coruscant, Imperial Palace, Senate Chambers
Borsk Fey'lya leaned heavily into the seat in front of the Senate, stunned by the defeat.
Not that he was really surprised.
The very moment Luke Skywalker had almost completely erased the enemy fleet, Fey'lya had known that his career as Chief-of-State of the New Republic had come to an end.
They would ridicule him for years - the President who had almost disposed of the Jedi Order, their only chance for survival.
Inwardly, Fey'lya laughed bitterly. What did they know? They hadn't the insight HE had. After all, he was a Bothan, a master in those plays.
Skywalker had once again cemented his heroism, his invincibility.
Now more than ever people all over the galaxy would see in him some sort of god, in the Jedi Knights the extensions of this god's will and power - and protection.
And as soon as he was back on Coruscant, Skywalker would try to seize the position of President.
There was nothing that could stop him.
The vote that had been held just now had been all too clear.
Everyone, except Fey'lya himself, had agreed to the vote-of-no-confidence in him. He wasn't president anymore. He wasn't even allowed to come into the Senate's chambers, once he was dismissed from this gathering.
He glanced angrily over to the slender, white-haired woman sitting in front of him. Mon Mothma had been asked to preside over this assembly and she had done so with the same dignity and power she had always possessed.
No doubt that she had seen to it that the whole Senate had been informed about Fey'lya's secrecy policy about the Vong threat.
Now, with the near disaster of Ithor, it was obvious how the Senators would interpret the withholding of information from his part.
They had even agreed on releasing the whole data - audio and movie file - to be seen by the whole population of the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant.
Fools. Stupid fools.
"Citizen Fey'lya." Mothma's calm voice jerked him out of his dark musings. "The vote is clear. You're instantly dismissed from your position as President of the New Republic. You're not to assume any other political position within the governing apparatus of the New Republic, but you are free to stay on Coruscant as long as you wish. You may also return to your home planet and engage in politics there, but the galactic playground is closed to you from now on. You are asked to give every password and key to secret areas over to me later this evening.
If you have to say anything or do want to try to defend your actions concerning the Yuuzhan Vong and Ithor one last time, you will now be given opportunity to do so. You may also apologise to the present Senators for keeping them uninformed of life danger."
Fey'lya growled low in his throat. He would not give Mothma the pleasure of seeing him wiggle under her stare or those of the other senators. Never.
"I can't see the mistakes I made – in your eyes. I handled the situation as I thought best for the New Republic. To protect the people of our galaxy."
"You mean to hold yourself into your position, hide your weakness and gain further support to work against honoured Master Skywalker and his Order." A female-voiced protocol droid translated dutifully for the Wookiee chairman of Kashyyyk.
"My opinion about this traitor and his fellow cowards hasn't changed a bit," Fey'lya stated coolly.
An outraged murmur started, telling Fey'lya that he had been right. The Senate was now more than ever prone to Skywalker's nice talks, more prone than ever to honour this criminal Order of his.
The Senators that had supported Fey'lya in his quest against the Jedi Knights in the months prior to Ithor had silently left his side even during the destruction of his entire fleet over the fertile planet.
"Gentlebeings, please calm down. We should not be enraged about insults spoken in defeat. Now that Citizen Fey'lya has said his last words to this gremium, we will close this assembly. I shall assume the position of Interim-President until our new Chief-of-State arrives. I suppose no one has changed his or her mind and the election is as unanimous as it was yesterday?"
Affirmative nods all over the seat rows.
Fey'lya frowned. The new Chief-of-State had yet to arrive? He had assumed Mon Mothma would be his successor. If not she, then who….
Fey'lya jumped to his feet: "No," he hissed.
Every head or adequate body part in the room turned towards him. Mon Mothma cleared her throat: "Pardon me, Citizen Fey'lya?"
"So I was right. You've elected this Jedi sorcerer for President," he snarled.
Mon Mothma smiled gently, as if to a child, but her eyes were cold. Something had changed between the two of them. In the past, Mon Mothma had never been a friend of his, but there had been no open hostility either.
Now though, there was anger in her clear, blue eyes; anger and no trace of respect.
"I can assure you, Citizen Fey'lya, that we have not elected honoured Master Skywalker for President. He would never have accepted, anyway. We all know that he is certainly no politician."
Some of the older senators smiled and laughed softly, gently, remembering all the occasions on which Luke had spoken to them, not with the cool rationalism of a politician, but with the passion and idealism of a young man with outstanding visions and dreams.
Before Fey'lya could put up another question, Mothma continued, obviously more than pleased to be the one to break the news to him.
"His sister, however, is, as she has proved so often in the past, more than fit for this position. Her actions on Ithor and her foresight in the whole Yuuzhan Vong matter are further evidence of this. Ambassador Princess Leia Organa Solo will be asked to become President of the New Republic once again as soon as she returns to Coruscant."
Dumbfounded and boiling with anger, Fey'lya sat down again, waiting for all the formalities of a closing assembly to be finished.
Organa Solo. He should have known it. She had worked against him since he had become president.
But he would have his revenge on her. Even if he were forced to begin anew, on his home planet Bothawui, he would find a way to get the better of Leia Organa Solo and her whole traitorous family.
Hyperspace, Jade Sabre
Mara Jade checked the navigation computer, making some calculations in her head and stated satisfied that she would arrive in shorter a time than she had originally assumed.
Well, Luke had held the ship in tip-top shape.
Her brilliant green eyes became darker as soon as the name appeared in her thoughts.
Skywalker. Luke. Her beloved husband.
Probably he had no clue as to how close he had been to making her drop her decision and stay with him.
His arguments had been dominated by his love for her only, and so Mara had tried to not hear them at all.
That he loved her was wonderful. She loved him, too, but it clouded his perception. He could not think clearly as soon as it came to her and her illness. And he had to think clearly, above all in this regard.
Mara sighed. She had left because of two reasons. The first one was wholly egoistic and she felt already guilty of doing this to Luke.
But the situation had become unbearable. Mara had always been a loner; she had never needed anyone to protect her and she had never been someone that wanted to be pitied and kept like a bird in a golden cage if she was ill.
And that was exactly what Luke had tried to do at first. He had tried to isolate her from every possible danger or difficulty, dotingly sending her to bed, doing everything for her - except accepting that she didn't want this kind of treatment.
That had been at the beginning of her disease. Then they had talked about it. She had explained her feelings and Luke had given in. He had let her do what she had wanted to do, but he hadn't liked it a bit and Mara had felt it all the time.
Had felt his worry, his fear, his concern. She could always hear his mind whisper 'Is Mara ok? Can she stand this?'
Always. It had driven her nuts. She couldn't stand it anymore and so had decided to take a break from it. To give Luke a break from worrying.
Mara knew that there was no way to make Luke stop thinking this. It lay in his very nature, so tender, so passionate, so caring. She loved this, actually, but not now. Not now, where her life was threatened. Not only her marriage, her whole life.
The second thing was directly linked to her departure. She sighed again, almost beginning to cry when she remembered Luke's hurt look, the shock and denial in his eyes.
Once again, he had talked about having a child. Mara knew that he wished for that so much. And he would be a great father, of this she was sure.
But that was not the problem. She didn't harbour negative sentiments towards being a mother. She could manage this - she could kill insane clone Jedi, so shhe would certainly be able to handle a Skywalker/Jade child - and if she would have to extract every single Skywalker gene out of the child, she would get along with it, love it, care for it, raise it, educate it.
But not under these circumstances. She couldn't risk getting pregnant with this disease in her. What if her child was infected? She would never be able to live with this guilt.
Luke had argued again and again that the medics had found no proof that the illness was able to spread to other beings. Luke had, after all, not been affected and he was closest to Mara.
He had even, against Mara's wishes and to her utter shock, injected her blood into his own body in order to test whether he would get ill or not.
Mara had almost wished to kill him then. He could've been killed! He could have become as ill as she was! And he had done it for her!
It scared her to no end, realising how deep his love for her was.
But although Luke was perfectly healthy, even after this injection with Mara's blood, which had left the medics even more dumbfounded about the illness as they had been before, Mara had not agreed to have a child.
She fought tears as she remembered the final argument before they had parted - no, before she had left him.
"Mara, you have every prove you need to see that the possibility that our child would bear your illness is very low. It is actually zero. I don't know what more you want," he had said, desperately trying to soothe her anger at him for having brought up the subject again.
Mara had freaked out, she knew that now. She had been unfair and cruel.
"Then let me put it in a way so that even dumb farmboys as you can grasp it. I don't want a child with you, Skywalker. Is that clear?"
Now, having calmed down, she desperately wished that she had added what she had originally wanted to explain to him. Not now, not under these circumstances, not in the middle of war. But she hadn't said that. Hadn't even thought so far at that very moment.
In that moment, she had been a Mara Jade she'd thought dead since the moment she had married Luke.
He had not answered her on this, hadn't tried to keep her anymore. He had just stood there, watching as she went through the start procedures, sealed the hatch, appeared in the cockpit.
She had felt his eyes on her all the time, had felt his gentle knocking on her soul, his tender questions - she had blocked them all. Her anger had controlled her and she had ignored him completely. When he had come annoyingly close to make her melt again, she had just cut the Force bond with him.
Now, three days later, Mara could only try not to cry aloud about her cruelty and stupidity. He had backed away shocked, that she had seen.
And now, when she reached out to him in order to check if he was ok, she felt just nothing. It scared her to no end, but she was determined to get through with what she had planned.
She would try to find a cure for her illness. And then she would return to Luke, explain everything to him and would give him a child - a sound child.
Until then, until she had succeeded in curing her illness, she couldn't afford to let her feelings for Skywalker get the better of her.
Because as long as she was ill, she would risk hurting Luke even more by giving him an ill child - or dying in the process, which was not much better.
As soon as she had succeeded, she swore, she would make up for the words she had spoken to him on Ithor.
But until that day came, she was again alone - Mara Jade, a loner, but with the goal of never being alone again.
Sighing for the last time, now more determined and obedient to fate, she checked the co-ordinates again. Four standard days and she would reach her destination. Dathomir.