Luke had to admit to himself that he'd sorely underestimated the Marine-cum-Jedi Knight before him, despite his son's warning from the previous night. Perhaps the only saving grace for him at that moment was that he knew that she was doing this to help him, not hurt him; that this was the only way she could think of to make him see why she felt as though he and his Jedi had failed so often. He had known the when, this much she had made clear, but it dawned on him at that moment that this was only the beginning of understanding.
In response to this epiphany, he ceased his crumbling resistance altogether, letting the woman's probes rush through his mind unhindered. Laera shifted tack at lightspeed, her focused energies diffusing to bridge connections that Luke had never realized could be made. He could see now the missteps that he had taken in handling the Jedi Order's response to the extragalactic invasion. He had been blind, deaf and dumb to the gentle descent into darkness of his nephew, distracted by amorphous thoughts and glimpses of mysterious manifestations of the Force. It took a great deal of introspection, but as the ancient Knight before him began to let him see into her own mind, he began to understand once again that much of the turmoil that had occurred throughout the history of the Order over the millennia held a common theme: fear.
From her point of view as a soldier, the Order of her day had been paralyzed by fear of a greater threat when they had refused to join the Mandalorian Wars. This had resulted in Revan undertaking his crusade. History as he knew it also seemed to agree with Laera's feelings on why the Order had nearly succumbed to the First Jedi Purge: because it had been held catatonic by the seemingly invisible threat represented by the Sith Triumvirate. It was clear that, because of this, they had very nearly destroyed the last hope for the galaxy. Laera seemed to feel that if they had succeeded in stripping Vima Sunrider of the Force, then the light of the Jedi would have gone out forever. Records from the time of the Ruusan Reformation were also explicit, the opinions of its drafters laid bare. In the wake of the Republic's dark age and the defeat of Kaan's Brotherhood, the Senate had become so afraid of another resurgence of the Sith or another dark-side organization that they had abolished the military and sought to control the Jedi Order. The consequences of this, from Laera's point of view, had been disastrous.
At that moment, the knowledge he needed to regain control and force Laera from his mind came to him. With all of his might he concentrated on overcoming this strange twist on the Force, ripping himself from her psyche and mentally pushing her out. Finally free, he slumped to the floor, utterly exhausted. Through barely-open eyes he observed her doing the same, though he felt that the woman still held the upper hand, if only slightly.
"Very good, Skywalker," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "You're not out of the woods completely, but that was definitely a start."
She then glanced back at Ben. "See to your father. He's going to need to talk this out with you for a while. Silas, let's give them some privacy."
Ben joined Luke on the floor as their hosts exited the hovel and descended to the forest floor below, after having taken a bow and quiver of arrows apiece along with a leather sack. "Dad, are you alright?" he asked tentatively. "What did...what did she do to you?"
"I'll be okay, Ben," Luke replied, his voice throaty. "She's been through quite a lot, and it's toughened her up. Whatever that technique she used, though...it was very effective and it caught me completely off-guard."
"But why use it now?"
"Maybe there's something about the Sa'ari that she needs to prepare me for," Luke speculated. "Perhaps their endemic affinity for the Force has made them so used to it that someone who is unprepared for their abilities might find themselves easily manipulated and defeated."
"Dad, she mentally tortured you!" Ben replied, aghast. "If she's really a Jedi, then she should have found a better way to condition you—to condition us—to whatever those people might be capable of!"
"No, Ben, she's a Jedi," Luke said, gazing back at the entrance. "She's like me, in a way; her skills in the Force were borne out amidst the horrors of war and battle. When we fought, she let me catch glimpses of what she's experienced in her own life. We only had to deal with two Sith back then, just imagine what it would have been like if we had to deal with entire armies? Or for that matter, the united strength of the Mandalorian clans, unfettered by complicated codes of honor and willing to burn entire worlds for the sake of it?"
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that she's got a point. While now might not be the best time to sit down and work out the full impact of what she means, when we finally find what we have set out to find and succeeded in convincing the Alliance of the truth, there's going to be a lot to think about. Maybe her insights will prove useful to that process, if she's willing to help. In the end, however, she was right about one thing: I wish I had run Lumiya to ground forty years ago, rather than let her go."
"Dad, this isn't like you," Ben protested. "What would that have accomplished? We had no way of knowing if she was going to come back at all, never mind how she did."
"Ben, what's the first thing you do when you come upon a poisoned well?"
"Test it to see if it's really poisoned, of course."
"And if your tests read positive?"
"Do whatever it takes to identify the toxin and clean out the water supply."
"Exactly. Now do you understand what Laera was trying to tell me?"
"On the face of it, Dad, yes. But in practice, things are rarely that simple."
"I know," Luke replied grimly, then shook his head in consternation. "And I think she knows that, too. That's what I'm still trying to figure out. Certain people in the galaxy, though, they could be seen as analogous to a poisoned well, wouldn't you agree?"
"It certainly seems that way," Ben said pensively. "It wasn't all that long ago that some of them were trying to turn every last one of us, along with the praxeum on Yavin 4, into slag. Even now they're still trying to get rid of the Order. But how do you 'cleanse' someone in power without overthrowing a government?"
Luke blew an exasperated sigh. "As Whipstaff once said, 'and therein lies the rub.' Laera Reyolé is a Jedi out of time, an anachronism, but that doesn't necessarily mean she doesn't have perspective. In a way, it's refreshing to deal with someone who has the same kind of power as we do, but who also didn't know who I was. She was completely and utterly unintimidated by me and that, I now feel, was why she was able to do what she did."
It was refreshing to be back in the forest after what had happened between the Skywalkers and myself. Silas and I were now patrolling the southern treeline looking for any signs of Sa'ari sightseeing expeditions, keeping quiet but alert for anything out of the ordinary. So far as I could tell the natives were still keeping tabs on their ship, which I had learned was called the Jade Shadow, but the initial party had been relieved and sent back to the capital.
"You still think I was wrong to do what I did, don't you?" I asked Silas as we huddled in the shadow of a fifty-meter tree about a kilometer from our refuge.
"No, but I'm not sure it was right, either," he replied with a resigned shrug. "In any case, what's done is done."
I looked at him for a few moments, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Silas," I said, and meant it. "It's not fair for you to be caught up in all this. I shouldn't have had you come with me when we fled Revan's ship."
"Accepted, but unnecessary," he replied before kissing me on the cheek. "You need me, whether you want to admit it or not, and I'm glad to be here with you."
"No, the apology is necessary," I insisted, squeezing Silas's shoulder affectionately. "You see, I knew this was going to happen."
"What, that the Skywalkers would come, or that we'd end up stranded on this isolated planet in the first place?"
"The latter," I began, then blew another weary sigh as I held my head in my hand. "Silas, I knew we'd get stuck here!" I quietly wailed. "That's why I wanted you flying our escape shuttle, because I had a vision of us walking the streets of a T'lessian city together!"
The sounds of the forest echoed about us for a few moments as Silas looked at me, concern and pity in his eyes; his aura fluctuating with sympathy and affection. "Don't blame yourself, Laera," he said finally. "I'd have insisted on flying you back anyway and, let's face it, you couldn't have gotten this far without me."
"And you couldn't have gotten this far without me," I agreed with a sniff, the tremulous ghost of a smile crossing my lips. "But if I'd known we'd be drifting four millennia into the future, I would have bucked the destiny I'd asked for."
Silas slung his bow and put both furred hands on my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes once again. "Laera Reyolé, I may know jack squat about the Force, but I know that I love you, and that you love me. I would follow you into the mouth of Chaos itself, we both know that. So what if you had to beat up on Skywalker? You knew you had to do it, so you did it, and despite how I may have felt about it, I trust you to do the right thing."
"I don't deserve you," I replied, looking away as a tear threatened to leak out. "You're right, I've been beating myself up too much. Just look at all we've missed, all we've lost. There's no going back to our old lives."
"Then we start new ones," Silas said, and there was durasteel in his voice. "I don't know about you, but I intend to return to...what did you and Luke call it, the Galactic Alliance? When we've done what we set out to do here on this world, I'm going to make sure that the galaxy learns about the Marines. Maybe the Alliance will rekindle the Corps, maybe they won't, but at least I'll have done my best to pass along what we know."
I slung my bow and embraced Silas, so that I could feel his sincerity through direct contact. The tear finally trickled down my cheek to splash into his neck fur; when we broke apart, we were both wearing expressions of relief. "Then that will be three lifetimes I'll have lived," I quipped, giving another soft sniffle.
"So what will you do once we get back?"
"I like your idea," I admitted. "The galaxy needs the Marine Corps again; they need someone who's willing to do whatever it takes to uphold our values, the values of the Republic. If the Alliance military won't do it, then we go into business for ourselves. I used to be a drill instructor, after all."
"And a very fine one you were, too," Silas replied with a feral grin.
After another two hours of patrolling, at which point Silas and I happened upon a grazing plek'kak that would make a fine evening meal for four, we decided to head back and patch things up with the Skywalkers. I climbed the tree as usual, carrying the skinned and cleaned carcass up with me, with Silas following on the vine ladder we'd left extended. Back on the branch I secured the ladder, then poked my head into our home to find that father and son were deep in meditation, the latter doubtlessly helping the former to clear the waters of all the mud I'd churned up earlier.
"Let's leave them at it for a bit longer," I remarked dully, heading for the cooking pit further up the branch. It was little more than a sizable dent in the wood that I'd increased through carving, then lined with a high-temperature plastic sheet (used in survival situations on volcanic worlds) that I'd glued to the bowl-like depression with liquid cable from my utility belt, but it was an excellent place to conduct a spit-roasting. As Silas ran the plek'kak through and mounted it to the stubby wooden poles that sat astride the pit, I called upon the Force to ignite the kindling I'd retrieved from the bag of briquettes that hung from underneath the branch. We both secured the spit in its mountings, then I began rotating it gently with my mind as Silas rubbed salt and herbs into the raw flesh.
As the meat cooked, I mulled over what I had pulled from Luke's mind. The man had certainly seen his share of horrible things, it was true, and he possessed far more experience with the Force than I ever had. Indeed, it took a being of exceptional strength and wisdom to do what he had done—he was very much like how Vima had been in that regard. And yet, how had I been able to penetrate his defenses so easily? It certainly wasn't because I was stronger than him, that much was now plain. Rather, it seemed as though some part of me, that part which I recognized as my own predatory instincts honed over two decades of Marine service, that had sensed his moment of weakness and pounced upon it with the savagery of a starved taopari. I knew that such a moment would never happen again, and that if Skywalker ever decided to press the issue, he could probably fillet me like a ghillie fish.
Luke had, for so long, been the last of the Jedi, I could see that now. With the deaths of his teachers, he had fumbled in the dark for so long, not knowing his own strength, unsure whether what he was doing was of the darkness or the light. He'd succumbed to the dark side once, to save the lives of those he loved, such was his devotion to family and friends—to attachments. As I began to dismiss his fall as selfish, it occurred to me that were I in the same position, I might not have been willing to let Silas Dan'kre die, just as he had been unwilling to let both his sister and his best friend be killed.
"Silas, got time for a hypothetical question?" I asked as the smell of cooking plek'kak meat began to waft about.
"Of course, Laera," he replied with a nod, continuing to ladle honey onto the roast.
"Would you be willing to die if it meant that I didn't have to embrace the dark side?" I asked anxiously.
Silas's neck fur rippled with uncertainty and his right ear twitched. "I'm not sure, could you elaborate?"
"Well," I began, unsure how to phrase this, "suppose the two of us were abducted by a Sith Lord and ushered into his presence amidst a gaggle of his goons. He then presents me with a choice: either join him and embrace the dark side, or watch as you are gunned down. We're both disarmed at the time, and though I could probably fight my way out of his lair, it would pretty much be a given that you would end up getting slaughtered. My question is, would you be willing to die for me?"
Silas flattened his fur with his left hand as he set the carved wooden ladle aside."While I love life as much as the next Bothan, Laera, I would have to say that my answer would be an ironclad 'yes.' We've both witnessed the full power of the dark side, and I'd rather die than see you as a Sith. Aside from your own well-being, there's no telling how much damage to civilization that a person of your strength could do." He rubbed his chin pensively for a moment. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Skywalker had to make a similar choice," I answered dolefully, "and he accepted Palpatine's offer. Sure, he did his best to sabotage the Emperor's efforts to reconquer the galaxy, and yes, he was eventually redeemed by his sister. However, the time he did spend under that old bastard's tutelage caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of beings. I'm not sure I could bring myself to do that. He's still marked by that time in the darkness, but the intervening years have buried that stain on his psyche so deeply that I doubt he's even aware of it any longer."
Silas put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. "Laera, it isn't your job to psychoanalyze a Jedi Master."
"No, it isn't," I replied with a weak chuckle. "But that's pretty much what I did to him. I ripped the memories from his mind and beat him over the head with them."
"And that, my love, is why you're a Marine and a Jedi, not a therapist," Silas grinned. "If you think it might help, I could finish the story of how we wound up out here. That'll give you a chance to rest up a bit, maybe take stock of things."
"I appreciate that, Silas," I said, and kissed him affectionately.
The succulent scent of cooking meat drew Luke and Ben out of their meditations. Feeling refreshed and once again in control, the Jedi Master left the dwelling followed by his son, looking for the source. Ben spotted it first, and smiled at the ingenuity of the design; the fire pit had been camouflaged very well, so that even the thin smoke that rose from it was hidden from casual observation. "Hungry, Dad?" he said with a grin.
"Like you wouldn't believe," the elder Jedi replied.
The two made their way cautiously up the branch to where Laera and Silas squatted, portioning the cooked beast. The Jedi Knight was holding four slabs of meat suspended in midair so as not to get them dirty, smiling when she caught sight of the two guests' approach. "Plek'kak ribs," she explained. "Fresh off the carcass and incredibly delicious, especially the way Silas makes them."
"And you're supposed to eat them with your hands," the Bothan added, baring his teeth in anticipation.
Ben reached out toward one of the hanging portions and grabbed it, momentarily surprised at the feel of the meat's gooey juices on his hand. Gingerly he brought it to his mouth and took a bite, chewed and swallowed, then nodded his approval. "I haven't had ribs like these since...well, never!"
"A peace offering," Laera said, her smile fading somewhat. "We got the plek'kak as we were patrolling the southern perimeter where your ship landed. A helicopter must have come in last night to drop off a new set of guards, but it doesn't look like they're interested in combing the forest. How are you feeling?"
"Thank you," Luke replied solemnly, accepting his portion. "I'm still feeling things out, but given some time it should all come back together."
"Of course, Luke," Laera said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
The four of them nodded to each other as they enjoyed the first bites of their meals. As Ben finished his second rib, he looked at Silas, a question in his eyes. "Have you ever had any of the natives come close to your hideout?"
"No, they've never cared to venture into the forests," the Bothan replied with a contemptuous sniff. "I don't understand it myself, but for some reason the city folk don't much like the woods."
"There are a few scattered clans of forest-dwellers in various regions," Laera put in. "One of the friendlier tribes has an encampment about twenty klicks northwest of here. We sometimes trade with them for things we need; furs for tunics and the like, and we've helped them to find lost children or livestock on occasion."
"They're a very social people, but not wholly united," Silas added. "Most of the Sa'ari have embraced science and technology over the centuries, but others have dedicated themselves to maintaining a simpler life. As I understand it, the latter groups prefer to keep their connection to the natural world through the Force, living freely and in harmony. Of course, even the city folk feel the same way to a certain degree, which is why their tech is some of the most environmentally-friendly I've ever heard of."
"Do they have an organized Force tradition?" Luke asked, addressing Laera. "You told us about your initial contact with this 'Eldarch', but there must be more to it."
"There is," Laera explained. "The Sa'ari are entirely female, they use their natural Force-sensitivity to procreate without the need of a male. Some form of parthenogenesis, I think; science was never my strong suit. Basically, the 'mother' copies bits of DNA from the 'father', randomizes it with her own, and produces an embryo through means I couldn't begin to wrap my head around. They can also live for more than a thousand years, though an individual isn't considered to be a mature adult until age fifty or so. Eldarch Bellinega was eight hundred and seventy-three when we first met her.
"They once had a separate caste that was devoted to finding the best breeding matches among each clan or tribe, though these arranged pairings were by no means binding. Over time, the caste learned that there was something more to what they call 'the Blue' than simple procreation. After the Eldarch of the time received the prophecy and their knowledge of Galactic Basic, however, they began to develop other uses, such as empathic sensitivity, increased perceptual capabilities, basic telekinesis, and even a form of Force-enhanced martial art. They're centuries away from developing the lightsaber on their own, but they're quite capable of copying it if they ever got hold of one. Same goes for the hyperdrive, the repulsorlift, and the ion engine.
“As their society developed, Sa'ari culture started to distance itself from the Order of the Blue Light, as the caste had begun to call itself once they developed their Force skills. Mainstream Sa'ari began to focus more on politics and the sciences. As Silas indicated, they love to debate and sometimes their sessions can get very lively and last for days at a time. Though most don't choose to learn to manipulate the Force to an advanced degree, many mothers teach their daughters the basics. Cultural mores and taboos discourage casual displays of abilities, however. For the Sa'ari, the most heinous crimes that most individuals can commit are those which involve the uninvited intrusion into another being's thoughts.”
“Is that even enforceable?” Ben asked, slightly bewildered.
“It's rare enough that, yes, victims of such assaults can usually identify their attacker,” Laera replied. “Anyway, even after the divergence of the two aspects of Sa'ari society, the Blue Light continued to seek out members, bringing in especially luminous children still in their teens and inducting them into their Order. The summonses were always voluntary, but most candidates readily accepted, and initiates were taught Basic as the 'sacred language of the Starborne One.'”
"And you're the 'Starborne One,' right?" Ben asked.
"So it would seem," Silas replied wryly. "Laera and I are the first offworlders to visit T'lessia in their recorded history. The fact that we came in a half-wrecked shuttle and didn't start shooting the moment we were discovered probably didn't hurt their impression of us."
"There's one thing I don't quite understand," Luke said after a contemplative silence. "You said yesterday that the city folk are xenophobic and, according to the Eldarch, there was a significant amount of fear among the population."
"She did say that, yes," Laera replied, staring into the cook fire. "I may have been exaggerating a bit about the xenophobia, but you've got to realize that the entire populace has been living with this prophecy for four thousand years, which is consistent with our little disappearing act after the battle to capture Revan. Like we said, these people are very sociable among their own kind, and they've had ample time to speculate on what our coming really means. They've also had about nine months to mull over the implications of our arrival—as far as I can tell, this is the real reason why the planetary authorities have made no effort to track us down. They don't want to chance provoking us into bringing about the doom that the prophecy spoke of."
"Why have you not acted sooner, then?" Ben asked. "You don't seem like the type to wish death and destruction upon anyone, so how come you've not returned to bring about peace?"
"Because I'm a Marine, Ben," Laera replied, her face an emotionless mask. "The only way I know how to bring about peace on this scale is through superior firepower."
There was a long pause as the fire crackled and spat, the four of them eating the last of the plek'kak ribs and the Bothan removing the rest of the meat for preservation as the sun began to sink below the horizon. "It's been six months since we've heard anything from the 'civilized' parts of T'lessia," he explained as he finished cleaning up. "That was when we were forced to flee the Order of the Blue Light's monastery. The last we saw of Eldarch Bellinega was when she ushered us to the secret underground evacuation passageway.
"It was about three months after we'd arrived on-planet that it happened..."