Jaina Jade Skywalker

The crushing tension of her convictions seemed to evaporate with every strike of her saber. Bodies littered the floor in her wake, the growl of the tuk’ata Roe’gall served as the voice of her inner vengeance. With a Force-assisted leap, she flew over the heads of the crowd assembling around Emily, swinging her saber in a wide circle that sent six heads rolling in synchronized demise. Electric energy seemed to spring from within her, and with every hiss and crackle of her saber, she grew faster, stronger, more deadly. She whirled, coming face-to-face with a young male, muscular and wild, his dark hair spiraling out in every direction and woven through with leaves and bones and the small skulls of tiny rodentia. As she brought death to bear on his kin, he roared in grief and anger, affront echoing through the Force… ...but what rang in Jaina’s ears was the anguished growl of a Wookiee. Her astonishment was almost sufficient to bring her guard down, but with a quick strike she brought the pommel of her saber down on his head, collapsing his limbs like flimsy as his knife clattered away on the stone floor. This fire of battle, this thrill of victory, it was Raynuk’s as much as it was hers. The unease in her gut at the darkness within the ziggurat suddenly became crystal-clear: there was something here that called to her, that yearned to remind her of the darkness she still carried within her, flowing like a live circuit between her and the Sith Master who brought death to bear on Kashyyyk. Letting her saber fall from her fingers, she held up both hands, her sudden realization strengthening her resolve as shame colored her cheeks crimson. A massive pulse erupted from her fingers, tinged with the blue crackle of electricity, causing the stone structure itself to tremble as the bodies of the encroaching horde flew towards the rear wall away from the two women and the massive creature. Fear at what she had just done, and the reason for it, filled every heaving breath as she knelt to scoop up her saber once more. Maybe this investigation wasn’t so important. Maybe they should take their findings and go, and come back under cover of darkness, sparing the lives of these who so were so recklessly willing to perish to protect their sacred ground. But there was no true remorse within her for the fate she had unleashed upon these natives by the sheer matter of their presence. Smoldering black glee welled up within her, amplified by the deep darkness of the very stones upon which she stood. Apparently, she had not yet reached the end of the list of side effects she would experience from her connection to Raynuk.

For the space of a long, hazy moment, it almost seemed as though it was going to work. Emily had obviously gotten the gist of what Jaina had picked up on, and she opened her eyes, watching as confusion seemed to ripple through the approaching horde. Their feet slowed, their spines straightened, and their eyes, overlarge from a life lived in the understory of the rainforest, sparkled with a genuine curiosity. One glance at the approaching tuk’ata and the momentary peace evaporated. Bringing her saber to bear, Jaina sliced downward as a trio of them came within striking distance, the first triumphant sizzle of her saber leaving body parts scattered on the floor, the Force seeming to scream from within her as life and death were brought to bear on one another, without respect to the fabric of space and time. Steeling herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins once more, she let her momentum carry her into a fluid circle, dodging the strike from an oversized spiked club and leaving the hand that brandished it lifeless on the mossy floor. There were easily two hundred of them, but these were not worthy opponents: their primitive weapons gained no purchase against the violaceous justice of her Jedi weapon. Her pulse generated a rhythm for her strikes, and once again, she danced a dance of destruction, her leather boots tapping a silent refrain on the carpeted stone as the sounds of battle echoed in the massive chamber around her.

Emily’s thinly veiled aggression finally boiled over, foaming with the release of adrenaline that accompanied the blood-curdling, animalistic screams that filled the air. But there was a primal fear to these aggressors, beings that may have once been human but now bore springing hind legs that appeared almost feline, their hands lengthened into razor-sharp claws that could puncture the hide of the thick jungle trees as easily as they could gouge out the eyes of their prey. If she had to venture a guess, Jaina would assume they were sentient, but the ferality of their screams belied the likelihood of such a conjecture. The fiery snap of Emily’s saber was the thing that finally spurred her into action. Wheeling to press her back against her niece’s, angling her saber towards the approaching horde as the massive tuk’ata pounced like a pup at play, the shimmering violet of her blade leapt sternly into existence. Her gut twisted, as milliseconds stretched into moments, with the knowledge that she was about to end the lives of those on whose sacred lands she was trespassing, and prove them right--she was the unwelcome aggressor--but something in their minds gave her pause. They were not the first outsiders to cross the threshold of this temple recently. Closing her eyes, she stretched out the hand that did not clutch her saber to lift a protective shield around herself and Emily, extending a calm peace in waves toward the creatures. Stop, Jaina’s plea echoed through the Force, desperately yearning for a different solution, a way in which to show these simple minds that they were in no danger so long as they brought none themselves.

Following doggedly behind Emily, the unease in Jaina's gut grew exponentially as they entered the large stone temple. The crepuscular interior bore every likeness to her catacombs on Hapes, and her skin crawled unavoidably as they moved farther into the belly of the structure. Emily's tale of the Sith Lord who had occupied this moon corroborated the unsettling fibers of intuition that were woven into the metaphysical fabric of such a place. involuntarily, she shuddered, as the light fell from Emily's hand and the startling moment passed. Looking over her shoulder once more, Jaina nodded in response to her niece's question. "The sooner we find what we're looking for, the better. I don't want to spend one more minute in this place than necessary," she murmured under her breath, in an attempt to avoid drawing attention--whose? she chided herself irritably, finding her actions irrational and paranoid--to their presence. Ascending to the second level, the stale immobile air was punctuated by stark beams of light that split cracks in the old stone or slits carved as windows, high ceilings adding to the impression that this was some ancient banquet hall or ritual center. A single pebble clattered down the stairs, and even that tiny movement reverberated like a shot through the giant chamber. The moss on the ground was so prolific that at first glance the expansive open floor looked to be gilded in a verdant carpet. On the far wall, there were a series of images carved into the rock, hieroglyphs in some ancient language. Pulled by her own insatiable curiosity, Jaina crossed the massive room on quick feet, halting only when she approached the wall. Running a finger along the deep grooves of one of the glyphs, she rubbed a thick layer of dust like lint between her fingers, casting it to the floor as though satisfied, and walked slowly along the length of the mural, pausing at the very end. "Emily, look at this," she said in little more than a whisper. There, in the far corner of the room, a trio of carvings adorned the wall, vastly newer than their companions and barely touched by the oppressive dust. The first, a traditional symbol of the Jedi Order, a wreathed saber standing in the fulcrum between light and dark. The explosive flame of the Sith Empire. And the third... "What do you suppose that is?" she murmured quizzically. "It looks familiar, but--" Her question was interrupted by a sharp prod from her danger sense. An invisible line tautened her neck muscles in an instinctive reaction, and her head jerked backward to narrowly avoid her nose becoming impaled by a long, thin dart. Several yells sounded from the far end of the room, but the light that streamed from the far east window obscured her natural vision, and she tossed a hand up as though to block the light while the other fell to the butt of her saber. No sooner had she done so than a mass of flailing limbs launched from above her head, landing on her unceremoniously from the long ledge of the upper level, brandishing a long stone knife and stabbing at any part of her he could reach. Grasping at his wrist proved immediately ineffective, and with a flick of her wrist Jaina sent the man flying towards the opposite wall, crumpling against the stone as his head collided with a satisfying smack. A better look at the man showed that he was dressed in the garb of the native Yavin populace, those who had settled into these temples as an ancestral home. "Guess they aren't too keen on visitors," Jaina quipped as she pulled her lightsaber off her belt and gripped the handle firmly in her right palm, her thumb caressing the activation plate with only a phantom touch, ready to ignite at a moment's notice. Disoriented by the oppressive darkness, she struggled to hone in on individual presences, such that she might ascertain their numbers. Then all hell broke loose as they begin to swarm up the stairs, all wild eyes and malice.

Jaina knelt in the damp earth, pulling her cloak more tightly around herself. The mulchy richness of the air was a welcome change from the thin ozone of Coruscant and the scrubbed and recycled air aboard the Hope, where she had more or less lived for the vast majority of her adult life. Closing her eyes and bowing her head, she let her senses expand, taking the pulse of the vibrant jungle moon as she breathed its swampy mists. The obscured forests around them were rich with local fauna, even at this higher latitude, the natural cycles of birth and death tumbling in joyful abandon as the Force guided the symphony of movement like a conductor's hand. At the edges of her awareness, she could feel the psychometric history of the place beginning to tug her deeper, hearkening back to desperate days, and beyond, millennia beyond, the foundations of the Massassi temples being raised. Dampening darkness lay across the jungle like a blanket. Standing to her feet, brushing the damp patch that had formed on her knee, she gazed unsuccessfully through the mist in the direction of the Temple that was a half-kilometer away. "It's like all of the history of this place is... concealing something. There's an old darkness here that makes it hard to get a read on anything. There are settlers nearby, and they don't feel... dark, but they don't feel particularly receptive, either. My guess is that something happened recently to set them on edge, and we shouldn't expect them to roll out the welcome mat." She offered Emily a wan smile, and tossed her head towards the large ziggurat. As she began walking with catlike steps through the mossy rainforest, coming out from under cover of the Hope's metallic shelter, the mist began to thicken into a gentle rainfall. "Time to do what Jedi do best, I suppose, and go poke our noses somewhere we aren't wanted." ----- Under cover of the thick mists and the chatter of wildlife, a small, nondescript shuttle set down in the underbelly of the jungle. Like deadly, exotic insects, a cadre of lithe figures in combat gear paraded silently into the brush, before expertly disappearing into obscurity. An imposing figure in a heavy cloak glanced down the ramp after them, holding a comlink to his lips in smug satisfaction. "Target Alpha maintaining current course. Recommend we proceed as planned."

An encrypted comm arrives for Misal Draygo.

A redirected distress signal, sent from the Jedi comlink of Councilmember Jaina Jade Skywalker, arrived at Felucia. It was from the personal craft of Knight Sandy Sarna, who had disappeared following the transfer of a Sith prisoner into Jedi custody on Coruscant, and the beacon appeared to be coming from the abandoned planet Scarif. Attached were explicit directions to follow up and extract Knight Sarna if necessary. The news traveled quickly among the Jedi who had populated the Temple that a strike team was to be assembled, consisting of a number of volunteer apprentices to accompany Jedi Knight Kaeta Osiral, a spritely Mirialan, in the search and rescue mission that awaited them. No danger was foreseen, but more sinister realities had lurked under such conditions many times before.

An active comlink transmission pings for Xae-Lin Ardel, bearing the transponder signature of the Traitor's Hope.

An encrypted comm arrives to Sandy's comlink on known Jedi channels.

An encrypted comm arrived, bearing the data package signifying its origination from the Jedi Council.

An encrypted and redirected comm arrives for Sandy Sarna.

Blood pumped so furiously through her veins that her ears ached with the volume. Seconds stretched by into years, and somehow the galaxy shrank into slivers of matter. Jaina felt as though she were tumbling through time and space in a sub-reality that was utterly intangible and fundamentally central to all. Breaths like whispers slowed and it was as if she were outside herself, somewhere beyond. Is this what Andon had meant? Beyond the galaxy, passed out of reach and farther out of known space than had ever been explored? For just a whisper of a moment, as time hissed to a halt, beyond a cosmic veil, she could make out the silhouettes of several figures, held in the grip of eternity within the Force. It was as if the energy field itself had created a pocket, a sanctuary for those souls which could not become part of the whole. An otherworld, an eternal aether where they would traverse as ghosts in the waking world. Suspended between the stars, the doorway hung; an opaque and dusty mirror by which she could only make out shades of those she had loved. The Force deigned to construct a facsimile of the abstract reality she felt sure of: there was, in fact, a grey haven for those who would not yet slip into oneness with the Force. For those whose whisper was yet needed in the ears of their loved ones in the galaxy. Those directors and shapers who maintained balance in the galaxy, whose burden it was to carry, they could not disappear. Not until their purpose had been fulfilled. A curtain of long hair cascaded from the head of a silhouette she recognized all too well, and as her hands reached, stretching across the infinite distance as though pleading with the Force to allow her to cross, she watched as the man's shadow enveloped a smaller figure in his arms, exuberantly clutching her to his chest. A flash of green light propelled her back to her senses, her heartbeat catching up with the present, just in time for Emily's scream to ring out in her ears. Confusion seized her for a moment as to why her niece was so stricken. Then her soul seemed to catch up with her body and, with eyes swimming in tears, she exhaled slowly, a quiet and still reaction from a woman who had just lost the thing that mattered most to her in the galaxy. A comforting touch across the distance reached to her, bearing the telltale signature of Skye Organa. So, it was not only the girl's soul that had gone missing. Tirzah was gone in earnest. Perhaps they would not walk at peace yet, Tirzah and Andon, but if they were to be kept in that netherworld indefinitely, their togetherness could at least bring unearthly peace to Jaina's restless heart. "We give what the Force wants us to give," she spoke aloud, but words kept forming in her heart faster than she could vocalize them, and with closed eyes she released them back into the Force, an oracle speaking truths into infinity, the Grey Goddess imparting a vision. We set everything down to keep it in order. The Force is light, and where souls have wrought darkness there is no comfort found within the Force after death. But there are some who build bridges. Some who walk the path that others can't, to make a way for those in darkness to walk to the light. There is no shame, no dishonor, no darkness inherent in this path. But there is no peace either. Those who fight for peace will never have peace, and their fight will be endless. Finally, finally, she met Emily's eyes. "Andon knew the cost. John knew. Maybe I didn't know at first, but I sure as hell do now. This is no one's fault, Emily." An unconscionable amount of peace gushed from her aura to envelop the woman who was trying to bring her, the bereaved, comfort. "All your vengeance will do is dishonor the questions she asked and the light she understood. Maybe she'll find her way back someday. Maybe she won't. Who are you to decide, to take the will of the Force into your hands?" There was no condemnation in her voice, but Jaina's tone allowed for no rejoinder. "The Cult needs to be stopped, but even destroying them won't bring back the child you lost. Vengeance won't bring Andon and Tirzah back. All we can do is keep breathing, keep moving forward, being emissaries of the Force the best way we know how." The comm panel lit up, and Jaina wiped tears off her cheeks with the soft sleeve of her dark green robe. "And right now, that starts with dealing with the Order that I've left in shambles for far too long." As she brought the comm to life and the battered form of the young Jedi she had met on Kashyyyk spoke of the Imperial siege on Nal Hutta, Jaina even entertained the possibility that the Sith had something to do with the misleading cue towards Nhagathul, in order to throw her off the scent of their larger workings in the galaxy. One thing was apparent: what was needed next was an update for the Jedi Council, absent Tobias' divisiveness, and hopefully some forward progress could be made in determining what to do next about the threat of the Sith advancement. On the other hand, it was highly likely that she could gather useful information from Raynuk about plans and movements of the burgeoning Sith Empire. With the residual pain, grief, and loss rolling off of her in waves, she reached for the comfort of his presence that she had come to expect, but found there a shadowy darkness that was almost startling to her, given the warmth he had expressed to her directly. Whatever he claimed to be, he was as much entrenched in the status quo of the galaxy as she was. They both had responsibilities to their respective orders and it seemed as though the time in which the galaxy could tolerate any kind of union between the two of them was fast drawing to a close. Quickly, she sent along a reply to the young Sarna and then turned back to Emily. "Emily, I have a duty to you as my family, but I'm also on the Jedi Council. The Cult, the Sith, Nhagathul, I know it all has to be related. You don't have to come with me. You don't even have to decide right now what you'll do next. But Tirzah was my mission." Her eyes swam anew. "And I have a report to give. Will you come to Coruscant with me?"

The journey to Nhagathul was, all things considered, fairly quiet. The comforting hiccup in the hyperdrive had been fixed by industrious Solaris techs in the wake of Tares' retrieval order, and while she was desperately happy to have the Traitor's Hope operable once more, she took it upon herself to search every inch of the ship up and down in an effort to keep her mind off of her daughter--and, if she were being completely honest, to keep her niece at arm's length. For as much as Jaina longed for a meaningful and lasting reconciliation with Emily, the woman was a largely unknown quantity, a volatile being who had as much reason to hate Jaina as she had to love her. From underneath the maintenance access panels in the repair bay, however, hanging upside down by her knees over a metal crossbeam and wiping grease off of her cheek with the back of her hand, Jaina had to wonder if this was really a productive use of her time or if it might not be more worthwhile meditating to try and sense Tirzah through the Force. An unsettled anxiety had settled into the pit of her stomach, and the compulsive repairs she had been effecting across the ship were the tactile equivalent to pacing. The darkness on Nhagathul had never before extended beyond the borders of the planet's atmosphere. Why it chose to do so now, to seize her daughter, she had not the slightest idea. A chime from the cockpit sounded, and Jaina jerked her head up, smacking it solidly on the side of the narrow maintenance chamber. Whispering curses under her breath, she slipped her hydrospanner back into the toolbox and vaulted out of the access hatch, sliding the panel closed with a nudge from the Force as she exited into the corridor and made her way around the curved hallway to the cockpit. As she rounded the corner, there, looming in the viewport, stood Jaina's greatest fear. Nothing. The planet wasn't there. Emily's signature in the Force announced her arrival, which her catlike footsteps would have otherwise obscured. Tapping manically on the console, Jaina brought up the navigation screen. Precluding any snarky comment about the age and functionality of her ship, Jaina snapped, "It should be here. The configuration is all correct. The star charts are accurate to when I was here with--" A deafening scream brought an abrupt end to Jaina's sentence as she clapped her hands over her ears, doubling over against the console. Dimly, she was aware of Emily's concern and a more primal panic that must have been the tuk'ata. Blocking her ears did nothing to prevent the intensity of the sound, and she fell into the Force to brace her senses against whatever assault was trying to overwhelm them. It was only then that she placed the voice, so guttural and bloodcurdling it scarcely seemed human. The scream was Tirzah's. Placing her hands flat against the console, her elbows trembling, she dove into the darkness surrounding the girl's essence, clawing through murky waters made of spirit in a last desperate attempt to reach her daughter. Ineffably, she knew: if she could not reach Tirzah now, it was likely that she never would. Deathly cold grasped at her heart, crushing darkness at odds with the light she bore within her. It was closing faster than she could keep it at bay. As quickly as the sound had started, it was gone. Turning her head to regard her niece, sweating with the fruitless exertion, she opened her mouth but couldn't muster the words. Lightyears away, in the center of the galaxy, the monitor watching over the heart rate of the dark-headed child began to wail her requiem.

While her own words were unfair, she didn't come face-to-face with that until Emily's own words pricked something in her heart. The man she had become reacquainted with aboard the Ravenhammer, whose eyes swam with bittersweet regret, was not completely consumed with darkness, as the younger woman had suggested. The tenderness with which he had dealt with her in her sterile hospital chamber on Corellia was not indicative of someone who had given himself over to bitter cruelty. Maybe it was just another way to manipulate her, to draw her in and discard her as Jaina had warned. But she didn't believe it. Not this time. Slowly, slowly, she tentatively reached through the bond for his presence, finding a melancholy--but incredibly focused--consciousness on the other side. "It will be," she said cautiously, presciently. "We'll put our family back together. And it starts with going after Tirzah." Glancing hesitantly at Emily, she asked, "In the interest of clearing the air, do you have anything you wanted to ask me?"

When Emily's hand released hers, Jaina's face was blank. The other woman's apology was meaningless, lacking the teeth of conviction, and carrying only the selfish burden of her negative feelings. And yet, Jaina could not fault her for this. At least, for what seemed like the first time, Emily was beginning to confront the errors of her past. It was terribly inconvenient that such travesties had to do with the things most near and dear to Jaina's heart. It made such teachable moments quite difficult to navigate. "It did cost you both a lot, didn't it?" The reply was dispassionate, a thinly veiled mask of the whirlwind storm within. "Sorry doesn't bring him back, Emily. I'm not angry with you, I just..." Her own conflicted feelings about Raynuk roared to the surface in a tidal wave that she had somehow managed to hold back at every point up until now. Shutting down the part of her mind she knew he had access to, the flood of emotions washed over Emily in a torrential accusation. "Somehow, he manages to wind every female he comes across around his finger. Somehow, he talked you out of your loyalty to An--to my husband, when you were the only one he had left in the entire galaxy. Did you ever think you were robbing him of the chance to find Tirzah? That maybe none of this would be happening? Somehow, he wound up adopting a girl who was your apprentice, who now hangs on his every word like it's the water of life." She knew she was being unfair, but could not muster the strength to withhold her feelings. "Did you ever think that whoever stole his memory, to begin with, may have just been biding their time to take the next step of revenge? You dropped everything at the whim of a man you barely knew, who has done nothing but betray and discard those who have no use to him anymore, even his own child." No longer able to remain seated, she turned her back on Emily, her muscles quivering with grief and rage. "I suppose it was the perfect opportunity for him to teach you what it means to be a true Sith." All her doubts about her own feelings concerning Raynuk rushed back to the forefront. He had dealt gently with Tirzah when the girl had sought him out on Corellia, but that did not mean he was prepared to lay anything on the line for Tirzah or, for that matter, Jaina herself. His offer to help had been words, more words. But she had turned down his offer nonetheless. Maybe, something whispered at the other side of her mind, maybe he would have come through this time. The vicious, vengeful look on Andon's face was seared into her mind's eye: when she closed her eyes, it became brighter rather than dissipating. Can't I just let you go? His words, imparted by her niece's memory, burned a hole like a lightsaber through her gut. Tell me what you know of emptiness.

Dizzying words wound around her as Emily spoke. Remorse echoed through the Force, and the taste of regret was strong in the filtered air, but Jaina's mind could not move past one thing Emily had said that she utterly did not understand. She spoke of Andon, of Raynuk, of Tirzah, of the ghosts that held Jaina's hand unrelentingly and constantly, a reminder of her failures and her weaknesses. But to take responsibility for the death and absence of her husband... Jaina had always assumed that Andon had tested the edges of the galaxy at the leading of the Force. That his travels had taken him there in pursuit of some greater cause. She had never found a satisfactory answer to why Tirzah had evaded her father's care, but she had never once considered the idea that Andon had forgotten them. He had crossed the galaxy time and again for her, pulled her back from the edge of darkness, remembered her when she had no memory of herself, hoped for her when she had no hope left. She had been the fire in his eyes. Who had extinguished that flame? With no regard for Emily's tears concerning her own lost child and Tirzah, Jaina's eyes filled with tears of a different sort. "Andon... he... his memories?" Her tone was pleading, begging Emily to tell her something, anything about what might have occurred to build a wall around Andon's family within his mind. Even the scent of cooking meat could not tempt her as her eyes locked on her niece.

Haunted. Hollow. Brushing onto the Traitor's Hope with an air of malnourished sorrow, the spectre that was her niece joined the cadre of ghosts aboard the ship. A shade of the vibrant young woman who had met Jaina with the same greeting on Raxus Prime, Emily appeared so wispy and unsubstantial that if the ventilation systems were to kick on too strongly, she might be swept away. Holding her arms out wide, she folded the younger woman into an unyielding embrace. "Hello, Emily," she said thickly, swallowing to keep emotion out of her voice as she pressed her cheek against her niece's. "It's good to see you." When she finally pulled back, she extended her arm as an invitation as she led the way through the ship's corridors to the crew lounge. To say that Emily seemed thoroughly wrung by her grief was an understatement, but for the moment she would refrain from stating the obvious. "Let me get you something to eat," she said, allowing no room for protest, "and we'll get underway."

Warning bells went off in her mind, but as quickly as she would silence them on her pilot's console, she hushed them within. Dare she invite her fissiparous and volatile niece into her place of safety? To let another family member enter her home to leave ghosts behind? The cold protective instinct within her screamed to maintain her distance, to fly casual as she entered the atmosphere of their relationship. But why else had she come? Powering down the shields around her heart, she toggled her comm to life. "Come aboard the Hope. It's a long journey, and we need to stay together," she said simply. Preparing the docking clamps, she threw her heavy grey cloak about her shoulders and moved toward the rear of the ship to prepare for Emily's arrival.

The Traitor's Hope entered realspace as suddenly as Jaina herself had returned to life. A quick scan of the transponders of the surrounding ships yielded no sign of the Shadow's Shine, and the familiar Nubian vessel wouldn't quickly go unnoticed. But perhaps Emily was stronger in the Force than Jaina gave her credit for: her presence leached into the space around Rattatak pervasively. Pulling into a high orbit above the planet, she slipped back into her boots and clipped her saber to her hip. Practiced fingers wound her long hair into an elaborately braided knot. A glance down at her green and grey robes gave her pause. Carrying the mantle of the Jedi Order was yet a new phenomenon for her, and, although all species wore such a variety of garb that she may not be singled out simply for her appearance, sporting the traditional robes felt akin to walking around with a target on her back. But there was an element of strength she drew from them, the reminder of hundreds of brothers and sisters in arms, and the vision of their aloft sabers at the Wookiee's memorial would not soon fade from her mind. She was part of a family, now, and she carried their strength with her. She reached for her niece, watching, waiting. Emily was indeed, quite close, leading Jaina to believe that she had not come here in her mother's ship. Reaching through the Force as she readied herself for their meeting, she touched the tumultuous mind of her niece. I'm here...

"You can't... I can't ask you to..." All the protestations that sprang to mind died on her lips. Hadn't she just been yearning for a companion, an ally on this doomed venture? Emily was strong in the Force, devoted to Tirzah in a way that no one except Jaina herself would have cause to be. It would be worse for her to be friendless, aimless, wallowing in loss, and wandering a wider galaxy that only wanted to make an end of her than it would be to follow Jaina into the nothingness of Nhagathul. Glancing at the console before her, she assessed her current location. "I'm several thousand lightyears away from Rattatak. Meet me there?"

Roiling waves of nausea were like an earthquake in the foundation of her equilibrium. Its magnitude was relentless, cruel in the most vicious way, but nothing she could do would stem its tide. This was no attack through the Force, simply the fracture of a mother's heart and the overwhelming ever-present guilt. The Cult had tracked her transmission. Followed Emily's ties to Jaina, took their vengeance on the niece before laying their clutches into Jaina's daughter once more. As they had stolen her from under the nose of three Jedi, they had sunk their teeth into Tirzah again. Raynuk's child had perished before it had even tasted the clear air of the galaxy around it. Emily, like Jaina, robbed of motherhood before she had a chance to hold her baby. "They have Tirzah," she said with foreboding, when the implications hit full-force, and she repeated the words numbly. "They have Tirzah. She's trapped on Nhagathul."

Tiny hands wrapped around hers on the control yoke of the Rapture Star, and the giggles of the toddler on her lap drove Jaina's heart to a different kind of frenzy, swelling such that she thought it would burst. Raxus Prime loomed large in the horizon, and the disgruntled mutters from Vee, the protocol droid, echoed from the hold as he clanked around. But every lurch of Jaina's stomach was worth it as the ship, its inertial dampeners dialed down, bucked and rolled at the whims of the girl who had slept almost the entire way here from Corellia. Andon's firm hands held Jaina affixed to her seat, and hers in turn held tight to the little one, until at last Jaina resumed control of the ship and brought it in on its final approach into Emily's childhood home. Jaina shifted the girl to her hip as she walked toward the ramp, balancing the child on her burgeoning belly. A hot, sticky palm pressed to her face as the familiar metallic scent of iron assailed her olfactory senses, and the little girl's wide eyes glanced up at her. "You stay with me, Aunt Jaina?" Hot tears rolled thickly down her face and Jaina found herself instantly grateful that this conversation was audio-only. Swallowing several times to clear the viscous emotion from her throat, she finally managed to speak, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "We did start off well," Jaina said quietly. "Sweetheart, we started off so well." A shaking hand passed over her face. "So much has happened that you can't possibly be expected to know about, and I should have stayed, I should have explained it all, every last question, until you and I had no more secrets left. Instead I ran, like I always do. "It's too easy for me to be selfish, and I should have been there. I never got to raise the baby I wanted more than anything, and when I found out that you..." Strangled by her pounding heart, she couldn't continue, the grief still too fresh, her anxiety too raw. Subconsciously, she reached for the strings of Raynuk's presence, desperate for some measure of comfort. "I want to be there for you and the baby, but I don't know how."

Jaina sighed. Some part of her was hoping Emily would not answer, that she could have avoided the conversation one more time. Her tone was not exactly accusatory, but it certainly did not ooze with warmth or make it any easier to be vulnerable. Reconciliation would be harder over distance, but she had to try. Mind racing with a myriad of different ways to start the conversation, the silence grew almost unbearable when she finally blurted out, "I'm sorry. "I should have been there for you, but I couldn't see past my own hurt." It was a weak beginning, but an honest one, at least.

Exiting the repair bay, sweaty with the exertion of running through her lightsaber kata, Jaina's bare feet carried her to the cockpit, where she fell into the captain's chair with a whoosh of air accompanying a miniature dust cloud. A lengthy healing trance had done wonders for her physical state, which had been all but depleted by the time she departed Kashyyyk. But the downside of consciousness and solitude was that she had far too much time to think, and the more time went on, the more she was anxious about what she might find upon arrival at Nhagathul. It had been utterly foolish to turn down the help she had been offered, but Jaina's pride was far too significant to attempt to reach out to her Jedi allies. It was absolutely certain that if Raynuk ever got word about where she was headed, he would either drop everything to help her or try to talk her out of it, and neither one was acceptable. He had Raia to look after, and Jaina didn't want her on Nhagathul any more than she wanted Tirzah there. Besides which, there were the implications of his last thought that rang through her soul, and the Jedi Master could not let her hopes drift there. Skirting the issue would have to be the modus operandi for the time being. There was one more person who deserved to know what she was getting herself into, but Jaina found herself admittedly hesitant to reach out. Since deigning to remain silent following Emily's desperate messages on Corellia, she had been nervous to breach the gap between them. Their lack of communication had been a no-mans-land, and a comforting touch from far across the galaxy did little to assuage her reticence. However, she had felt the same way about Raynuk, and all of that had evaporated the minute she stood across from him, the enmity of years evanescing in a single second. Perhaps the same would be true of her alienated niece. On instinct, she pulled the lever, dropping out of hyperspace into seemingly infinite nothingness. She had a decently strong signal on the long-range comm, despite the blackness of the exterior, and toggled it to life.

Sandy Sarna versus Aidan Darkfire: All right, boys, here we go. First off, I really enjoyed the realism of the setting, and Sandy's initial post set the tone for the entirety of the conflict. Obviously, we can't predict the full outcome of the RP based on so many factors, but I often find duel posts difficult to read because they just seem so far out of the realm of what might occur in the RP proper. Knowing that this scenario of extrapolated development for your two characters is actually quite likely in the big game only increased the level of excitement and emotional investment as a reader. So thank you, already, for an entertaining and moving read, and for allowing me the task of ruling on it. In the first pair of posts, Aidan did a good job of establishing the unique style of combat that would be employed, though the first post of the duel felt a little like additional setup rather than combat in earnest, but his tone is commanding at the beginning and continues to be so throughout. The manipulation of patterns, the coordination of circumstances, it's a tricky thing to use in a duel. I would have liked to see every single strike turned into a connected movement that played into an inevitable or eventual end. Aidan's forceful advances were conveyed in highly effective tactical strikes, consistent with the cold and justified nature of his mission. Sandy's post not only establishes the effectiveness of her opponent but her own conflicted emotions about her actions, though her strikes come across as half-hearted due to her emotional connection to Aidan and her reluctance to wound him. Sandy's overall tack, while yielding in tactical strength, makes up for it in some lovely characterization that feels lacking in Aidan's posts. While I can understand a different approach to the fight, especially from a battle-hardened Imperial Knight who has had years of dulling his psyche to loss and pain, I would have liked to see more of his own mental gymnastics to justify the destruction of a friend--the bit about the Sith wanting the Jedi weakened by fighting the Empire, but he's perfectly willing to enforce his side of that strange triumvirate. I think we could have used more of the psychological repercussions there, but that's story stuff, and not strictly tactical. Sandy gets points for using her surroundings--crumbling detritus from the memorial combined with her own blood, no less--as an offensive, however, I am skeptical about her ability to so quickly form physical weapons. Nevertheless, it's her most effective attack against Aidan, whose close-range skills seem to surpass Sandy's at every turn. However, while damage from the attack was taken in the third post and assumed to cause significant pain, it seemed to have little effect on Aidan's overall actions. I might suggest that in future scenarios where his ability to see probabilities is used tactically, that any damage that he takes have some effect on his ability to bring about the possibilities he can see in his quantum "shatterpoints". I consider "taking damage" to include not just physical effects, but the mental/psychological struggle against pain in those instances, and it seems to be pretty quickly written off. The momentum begins to shift in Sandy's favor in the final post until Aidan's final blow comes through for him. It was well-established in the second post, and uses the chaos of the surrounding battle to his own advantage. Given the severity of the damage that Sandy has taken at the end of it, I find it highly unlikely that she could manage to maintain control over her telekinetic projectiles to land any kind of purchase. Her last minute leap in the same direction as Aidan might have saved her from the brunt of the starfighter's crash, but with the kind of damage she took, I think that a severed or at least heavily damaged spinal cord would have dire repercussions for her ability to follow through on her attack. The long and short of it is that Aidan Darkfire is the winner by tactical standards. It is fairly clear that he is going to walk away from this battle, even with his myriad injuries. Sandy might not survive at all, just based on what has been posted in the duel itself. However, I will say that in terms of overall characterization, and for purposes of story, I favored Sandy's posts, which were so wholeheartedly in character and smacked of sincere desperation and remorse that made my heart ache for her. Aidan can have one final post if you would like. The lightsaber, once released from her control due to the severity of her injuries, will be gyroscopically unstable and clatter away harmlessly. However, the knife thrown by Sandy will still find purchase, a final farewell from a dying would-be lover. Excellently written, both of you.