ARCADIA: PART 0

	The "Arcadia" files are chapters of a planned novella; as of
May 1996, the first four chapters are available online at the WPI SW
archives [ftp.wpi.edu/starwars or http://www.wpi.edu/starwars] and the
SW fanfic website [http://www.ftech.net/~monark/starwars/sw.htm]. A
set of older drafts is available on paper at the Corellian Archives
(Ming Wathne, librarian; 437 Via Roma Dr., Santa Barbara CA 93110;
send her a large SASE for complete lending list and guidelines).  A
partial draft of the final chapter (projected as part 9) was posted to
rec.arts.sf.starwars in July 1992 and temporarily archived at WPI. It
has since appeared in the fanzine _Imperium 4_ (Arwen Rosenbaum,
editor; 109 W. 85th St, NY NY 10024) without my prior notification or
consent. I have since accepted an apology and a contributor's copy of
the 'zine, although this does not endorse any repetitions.

	The remaining sections will be archived on a
chapter-by-chapter basis as I finish writing them, and periodically
rearchived as various waves of editing sweep though. Direct all
comments, flamage, pokes to hurry up and finish, and so forth to me,
Julie Lim, at lim@graphics.rent.com; if that domain is crashed,
someone else on rec.arts.sf.starwars.* may know an alternate address
or two for me.

	"Arcadia" is based on characters and concepts created by
George Lucas, and over which he holds all ultimate rights. The other
primary inspirations are listed below; any exclusion of copyright
acknowledgement is the result of my own forgetfulness and sloth, and
not a deliberate attempt to claim origination of others' material. Any
material not covered by previous copyrights is presumably mine. (*
legal weaseling mode off *)

	The Alderaani succession vendettas first came to my attention
in _Dark Force Rising_, by Timothy Zahn. The relationship of House
Antilles to House Organa was alluded to in Rusty Miller's _Jedi
Master's Handbook_.  Otherwise, I heed or ignore apocryphal material
(IMHO, any licensed material that isn't confirmed by the movies
themselves) as I feel like it, especially West End Games' specious
family history of Wedge Antilles.

	I owe more thanks than I can give to Vian Lawson for editing
and wombats; and to Jonathan Houze, for his constant support (with
only a tiny bit of sarcasm) in exchange for the occasional
wombat. Aaron Romanowsky got me back on track in chapter 2. Scott
Streeter, CallieSky, and Ming Wathne have been kind enough to store
these in their respective archives.

	Since the above credits are not in the novella chapters
themselves, this file must be retained with them whenever they are
transferred, printed, or otherwise dispersed. Any attempt to
distribute them for profit violates the aforementioned copyrights and
my wishes.

             "In thy orisons, be all my sins remembered."


                           ARCADIA: PART 1

    	In the morning light, the wide Alderaani forests were tipped
with gold.  Danah Antilles, Dowager Princess of Alderaan, surveyed the
dappled pelt of gilt leaves and shadow from high above. She sat at her
breakfast table as if enthroned. On the other side of the prismed
tower chamber, her son nodded to the servant droids, dismissing them.
	Danah turned away from the view, waiting for the drone of the
elevator shaft to fall silent. "Well," she said at last, "What is the
news from the Senate?"
	"Bothersome," Bail Organa said. He took a sip of
tisane. "Nearly half now support Palpatine's proposal, and many of the
rest are whispering secession. I don't know which party alarms me
more."
	"Unfortunately, Palpatine is right. If we do not present a
unified defense, we may soon have nothing to defend. Alderaan was much
like that before you were born. If external arbitration had not
intervened, the noble houses would have torn one another
apart. Imagine what would have happened if invaders had come from
outside, as the Republic now faces." She shook out her napkin with a
sharp snap and laid it over her gown.
	"You were hardly innocent of the vendettas, Mother."
	"I never said I was." A predator's smile leapt across her
features, vanishing as she bent to examine the fruit. "But I knew when
to halt and make peace, unlike Helice. She never did accept my
alliance with your father; she went to her death accusing me of having
betrayed our house. A pity, really. She and her daughter might have
been useful to us." Selecting a piece, she opened it with a silver
knife.
	"Yes, well, at present, we have more pressing concerns. Have
you been able to gauge the mood here at court? How do the people stand
on the war?"
	"Which party would they prefer to be in, do you mean? Our
people have an easier decision than most; since Alderaan itself no
longer has armed forces nor legal weapons, they need not fear death,
only taxes. Without the threat of conscription, they seem willing
enough to forward aid to the front, if it proves necessary. Part of
the sector fleet should suffice." She watched Bail bite into another
spiced bun. "So, shall you declare a necessity?"
	"As little as I like to, we may have no choice. The Nechti
have retaken Gefras and are advancing toward the Ikatya system."
	"Truly?" She put her fruit rind and knife down on her
plate. "I think this might be an opportune time for me to inquire
about Castra's health."
	Setting down his half eaten bun, he wiped his hands on his
napkin. "No, she is not pregnant yet. We've only been married a year,
you know. Isn't one of Liane's children at Academy in this sector?"
	"He graduated this year. His contingent of the fleet is being
forwarded to Ikatya if the vote passes the Senate; that seems
inevitable, from what you say. I had understood the combat front had
drawn back from there. I thought he might enjoy seeing his sister
again, but perhaps now I should recall one of them." Her voice was
devoid of enthusiasm.
	"Only one?"
	"Very well; both if you insist. I would just as rather leave
them there, but for the moment, they're all we have. Unless, of
course, you wish Alderaan to dissolve into civic feuding again. I
doubt the Senate will have the patience to spare us more arbitrators
so soon.
	"It is a pity about those two, really." Danah chose a small
pastry and daubed it with yeast spread as she spoke. "I do hope you
and Castra will provide an heir soon so I can put Liane's children out
of the way."
	Bail paused cautiously. "The vendettas are over,
Mother. Assassination as a preventive measure is no longer considered
good domestic policy."
	"Scarcely domestic. They'd be five sectors away." She poured
more tisane into Bail's empty cup, then into her own. Before he could
retort again, she said, "I take it you have forgotten Liane's
manuevering, then."
	"She paid the price for her treason. I see no reason why her
children should be forced to as well."
	"Your father said the same of Helice's daughter."
	Bail gazed out through the glass paned walls, his cup of
tisane in hand. On the sunward side, the panes were automatically
darkening in a latticed arabesque, screening out daylight as it
intensified. Without looking at his mother, he said, "I know you've
been monitoring Liane's children. Is there anything you wish to tell
me about them?"
	"Not yet. The older one, Arcadia, has been a little mouse of a
healer ever since she emerged from Jedi training. I doubt much danger
from her alone. But her brother is of an age to be delighted with
intrigues and secret plans, and if he recruits her into his schemes,
she may become capable of dangerous subtleties."
	"And is he scheming?"
	"He may be. I've instructed General Kenobi to keep them out of
trouble. If matters progress...unwisely, perhaps I will ask him to put
them into trouble.
	Dipping a spoon into a lapis bowl, she dusted her poached melon with
nut powder. "If the Organa line should fail, the Viceregency will very likely
fall to House Antilles   but not without some dispute, and the vendettas would
begin all over again. I tried to merge the two claims by wedding your father,
but Helice disagreed with me."
	Bail fiercely turned toward her. "Helice has nothing to do
with this. If there is no evidence against them, why even consider
their deaths? You know they're my presumptive heirs."
	"Yes, I do. And so do they."

*   *   *

	Arcadia looked up as the two men entered Ikatya medical
quarters. She nodded at them, but did not rise from the cadet she was
tending. Her fingers continued to hover over the unconscious girl's
shoulder, where charred flesh was buckling and flaking away. As
fragments tumbled onto the cot, the hollows left behind filled with
new skin, smoothly flowing up like water in a spring.
	Finally, she signaled a medical droid to monitor the cadet and
joined the uniform clad newcomers in the antechamber. The droid closed
the door to working quarters behind her as she unfastened her healer's
robes at the throat. "Well," she murmured, "no permanent damage this
time. General Kenobi, is this the officer who's been sending me these
casualties?"
	The man stepped forward before Kenobi could speak. "Commander
Anakin Skywalker at your service. Is Rouvel badly hurt?"
	Skywalker's broad shoulders towered over both of them; he
stood only a head taller than Kenobi, but Arcadia found herself
confronting his chest at eye level. She had to move away several paces
to look at him without craning straight up. "She was. I've
reconstructed her arm, but can't yet test nerve function. She should
revive in a day or two. Are you aware that she collapsed a few meters
out of training bay and was found in the corridor?"
	His dark hair accentuated his pallor. "She said it was a minor
wound. I took her word for it. I came as soon as I'd finished training
session with the rest of my cadets."
	"Blaster fire can ricochet inside thermal armor so quickly
that the victim never feels it. In the future, I suggest you
discourage her from deflecting bolts off her epauliere, unless she's
quite sure the angle's tangential. But after this, she may not need a
reminder." Arcadia stepped past the officers to a wall console, where
she keyed in a short code. "Commander, I regret meeting you in these
circumstances. Could you tell me what you see on this display screen?"
	"Medical record headings." He studied them. "They're all from
my squadron since the start of this year from all three rotations so
far, in fact."
	"Would you name another squadron leader for me?" When he
produced a name, she pressed another sequence of keys, bringing
another, much shorter list beside the first. "This is Commander
Baria's casualty list for the same period. Over the past five months,
nineteen serious injuries have been reported from your squadron, three
of them fatal. Baria had eight casualties, all of whom survived."
	"Baria fusses over his pilots like a mother Nebbit."
	"Then name two others," Kenobi countered. The first new list
contained four names; the second, nine. Only the last of these
comparative lists also contained death's red notation. "These injury
rates are typical for every squadron in this division, except for
yours."
	"Are you saying I deliberately injure my charges? Come on,
Obi-Wan, you know me better than that. I'm just trying to teach them
everything I know."
	"We've had this discussion before." Kenobi shook his
head. "Some things cannot be taught. For example, not everyone can
sense the angle of enemy fire quickly enough to react. Perhaps you
can, but you must respect others' limits.
	"I'm giving you a month's leave from your duties as squadron
leader." As the younger man's expression shifted from shock to anger,
Kenobi continued, "I'm doing this for your own good, Anakin. Believe
me, the Republic needs your skills as a pilot and leader. But if it
comes down to a question of losing other pilots because of you "
	"My squad won't stand for this. They're proud to serve under
me; they know I have higher standards than the others "
	"And you make them pay dearly for it. Remember Ismar Kevvat?
He survived the battle of Gefras, and died in one of your training
drills. Or Asde Varine she was killed in combat attempting an evasion
tactic you taught her, when a less... spectacular move could have
saved her life." The General pronounced the adjective with distaste.
	Arcadia moved away as if balancing on a narrow ledge beside
the wall, and began to add Cadet Marit Rouvel to the casualty
lists. Her usual measures to screen out sensory input were not
working; Anakin Skywalker's anger slashed through the haze like icy
sleet through fog. "Are you asking me to resign my commission?" he
said in dangerously calm tones.
	"I'm asking you to reconsider your methods. When the month is
over, I'll return your command to you, but if you continue to maim and
kill good warriors at this rate...."
	Skywalker said nothing. "Very well," Kenobi said at
last. "Lady Arcadia, my apologies for our disruption. Anakin, would
you care to dine with me?"
	"I would not."
	"Then you may tell me your plans tomorrow." The outer door
panels slid together in Kenobi's wake.

*   *   *

	Arcadia completed the record entry and glanced up at
Skywalker. He was gazing at the lists still on the screen, and the new
entry flashing at the bottom. His anger began to fade from her senses
as he traced a hand down the display. As he neared the end of his
squadron's list, he asked, "Did you treat all of my wounded?"
	"Some of them. There are three other Jedi healers on base, and
medical droids and technicians for lighter injuries."
	"Did you bring this to Obi-Wan's attention, or did he already
know?"
	"General Kenobi reviews casualty reports on a regular basis."
She began to key up random file headings, biting her lip.
	"Yes, I know, but I didn't think it was time for review
yet. Or has he halved his review period?" He was regarding her with a
cryptic half smile now, like that of an ancient mask. Arcadia noticed
uneasily that he was resting his right hand very near his blaster.
	"Oh, truly now," he responded. "Do you really think I'd shoot
a healer? I'm simply curious why you might've informed on me unless
you haven't."
	Switching off the record display, she turned to look directly
at him. "My brother has been assigned to this base. General Kenobi is
a friend of the family, and gave him a choice of squadrons to
join. Denis chose yours."
	"How protective of you." Skywalker paused, evidently
considering his squadron roster. "This would be Cadet Denis Colton?"
	"Or Antilles. Our naming conventions can be confusing."
	"Antilles?" His face sharpened. "Denis is coming in from Aldea
sector, as I recall. Surely you're not related to the Alderaani
Princess Dowager Danah Antilles?"
	"She's my mother's aunt."
	"I see." He began to stroll around the perimeter of the
room. "You knew about my squadron's casualty rates before now, but
weren't disturbed by them until your brother thought to join me? The
Alderaani noble houses train their children well in politics."
	"We're no longer a noble house."
	"Not even Danah?"
	"She was the only one of House Antilles to salvage any power
from the ascendancy dispute. You heard General Kenobi call me 'Lady
Arcadia,' but Denis and I have no influence behind our titles. Danah
made certain of that." She looked away.
	"We have no hopes on Alderaan, and the General has helped us
secure positions. I understand he's done the same for you."
	"The two of you appear to be helping me out of my position at
present."
	"I didn't want Denis' death on your hands."
	"I don't kill my pilots," he snapped. "I train them to be the
best squadron in the Republic. And if you think I "
	The outer door slid open again. "Arcadia, has Anakin " General
Kenobi began, then stopped. Anakin compressed his mouth
tightly. "Perhaps," Kenobi resumed, "it might be advisable for you to
dine with me instead, Arcadia." He turned back to Anakin and studied
him carefully. "Or have you changed your mind yet?"
	Anakin lingered only long enough to outstare Kenobi before
moving toward the door.
	"Perhaps not. I'll expect to hear from you tomorrow," Kenobi
said at the closing panels. "Arcadia, are you off duty now?"

*   *   *

	The officers' mess was nearly deserted at this hour. Arcadia
had stayed on duty late, and so service for the evening meal was
nearly finished. She and Kenobi ate quickly, more from a desire to get
it over with than from any real enthusiasm. Most of the food was the
same nondescript dun color as the general's hair.
	Taking a second bite of the crushed fruit paste, Kenobi
reconfirmed his opinion of the first bite. He did not venture a
third. Without looking at Arcadia, he asked, "Have you reconsidered my
offer?"
	"I gave it more thought. But I haven't changed my mind."
	"So what do you think of him?"
	She regarded Kenobi warily. "Commander Skywalker? In what
sense? You weren't matchmaking again, were you?"
	"Again? Heavens, no." His tone of wounded astonishment was
marred only by his grin. Both were abandoned as he leaned closer. "You
felt his strength in the Force, didn't you? He isn't aware of it
himself, but it's part of what makes him a brilliant pilot."
	"Is he? I wasn't certain where his balance lay between truth
and pride."
	"He's the best warrior I've ever known," Kenobi said
quietly. "Almost impossibly proficient, courageous to the point of
recklessness if he learned to keep a better watch on himself, there
would be no limit to his career.
	"But he is not aware how strong a role the Force has had in
his success. Many of his combat strategems are only possible with the
help of the Force. I've been reviewing his squadron's records again,
and those members who have prospered under his leadership have all
tested well for Force sensitivity."
	"And those who cannot sense the Force have died." Arcadia
pushed her own plate aside. "How can he not know? And have you told
him this?"
	The general's pale eyes were uneasy. "His home system had no
place for Jedi.  Not only has he never been formally tested, but he
knows almost nothing of us.  At this level, testing is scarcely
necessary; I know he has the strength. But if I tell him of his
powers, he'll ask for training as a Jedi Knight. Now, if you'd been
willing, I could have sent you to Millat to train with Master Tegie or
Mistress Tamra.
	"But as for Anakin " He broke off, shaking his head. "I can't
transfer him to another base while he has teaching duties himself, and
there are no full Jedi Masters here. I'm not certain I can keep him
under rein, but I fear his actions should I refuse. His pride would
drive him to seek training from another, and he may not choose wisely.
	"But if I tell him nothing, his casualty rates will continue
at their present rate. Neither alternative is ideal."
	"I see," said Arcadia, although she was not certain she
did. She picked up an eating utensil and briefly fiddled with it. "But
why tell me this? There's no advice I can give to you."
	"Not to me, no. To him. Anakin does not like to be instructed
by superiors. I thought that you might be better suited to lend him
moderation."
	At the far end of the hall, a few more late stragglers arrived
and disappeared into the meal service corridor. Arcadia absently
watched their progress while considering his words. "But we scarcely
know one another. Why should he listen to me? Why not use one of his
subordinates as your vehicle?"
	"Perhaps I should adjust my earlier statement." Kenobi
grimaced. "Anakin listens to no one, except in cases of military
necessity. He has been known to ignore combat orders, although I must
admit his alternate methods have succeeded so far. But that's
irrelevant for now.
	"I would like you to befriend him. He knows and likes me, but
I doubt he'll take my advice in this matter. But he might heed
you. You're not a fighter pilot, so he'll feel no sense of rivalry
with you. Your military ranks are approximately equal, so he won't
engage in snobbery in either direction "
	She shook her head. "He asked about my family. He didn't like
what he heard, even though I told him about...."
	"About the ruin of House Antilles?"
	"Except for Princess Danah." The name was imbued with a soft
weariness that surpassed malice. "She could have rescinded our
family's attainder, once she and the Viceroy had an heir for House
Organa. And that condition was fulfilled nearly forty years past."
	"You must admit she had some cause for vengeance. Helice was a savage
adversary during the Alderaani vendettas, and your mother  " He surveyed
Arcadia's features as he considered his words. "Liane had certain disputes
with House Organa as well."
	"If Danah had been more lenient--" With an effort, Arcadia
moved her gaze from her tightly clasped hands to an indefinite
distance behind Kenobi.  Blanking her face, she said, "It seems that
your friend Skywalker has decided to join us after all."
	"Good. I rather thought he might." Kenobi's expression had
undertones that disquieted her: a fractionally raised eyebrow, a twist
to his smile. She suddenly realized how her appearance had changed
since her last encounter with Anakin Skywalker. She had left her
voluminous healer's robes in medical quarters, revealing the narrow
tunic and leggings she wore beneath them, and she had freed her hair
from its coiled plait. In a quick, nervous gesture, she gathered her
hair at one side of her neck and began to twist it into a loose
citrine skein.
	Meanwhile, Kenobi had turned about. "Anakin?"
	Anakin presented Arcadia with a smile that was astonishingly
sweet and guileless, considering that he was completely ignoring
Kenobi. "I owe you an apology for my earlier remarks, my lady. How may
I best express it?"
	Kenobi merely shrugged and resumed eating. After a moment,
Arcadia relinquished her grasp on the rope of her hair, which promptly
unwound again.  "Why this change of heart? Did you consult the records
files to corroborate me?"
	"Well, perhaps so  "
	With admirable economy of motion, she shoved her hair back
over her shoulder, pushed her chair away, and rose. "I decline your
apology. I am sorry you cannot trust my word." She left the table and
the hall. Anakin was on the verge of following her when Kenobi tapped
his sleeve.
	"What is it?"
	"Forget the quarrel with me for a moment. Do you agree with
what I said of her?"
	"No. She'd never make a pilot; she doesn't have the right
bearing for it. May I go now?"
	"I haven't formally dismissed you, Skywalker. Now sit down."
	The younger man's posture seemed to crystallize, bristling
with razored edges and angles at every side. "I wasn't aware I was in
parade formation, sir."
	"Just sit."
	Anakin sat. "Well, sir, I'm afraid your exact words slipped my
mind, sir. But if you weren't speaking of piloting skills, sir, I
don't think I have much to say, sir."
	"Oh, stop it," Kenobi said mildly. "Don't try this with other
superior officers, or they'll have your head. I'm sorely tempted to,
despite the fact you're my protege."
	"I don't feel particularly protected."
	"Do you know what would have happened if your casualty lists
had gone unreviewed until the end of the year? They'd be that much
longer, and I'm not the only one who inspects them. High casualty
rates are bad enough, but in your first year as squadron leader? You'd
receive a formal reprimand, and possibly be demoted. As difficult as
it may be for you to believe now, Arcadia and I have done you a
favor."
	After a moment, Anakin dropped his gaze into Arcadia's
abandoned cup. He lifted it and idly tasted the rim. "One month. What
am I supposed to do for a month? And who'll take over my command while
I'm away?"
	"Aren't any senior cadets in your squad fit to lead yet? I
thought you were training them, not taking them nut gathering."
	The return smile was automatic, but like its accompanying
words, it seemed to lack Anakin's full attention. "Oh, Anset might do,
or maybe Damesta." He surveyed the cup in his hand again before
draining it. "So what did you have in mind for Lady Arcadia? It looks
like I'll have to apologize to her by proxy."
	"I was appraising her for retraining as a combatant."
	"If not a pilot, what sort? She doesn't have the physique for
armored shock troops, and I don't know whether healers have enough
experience with machinery to handle combat walkers."
	"Actually, I was considering her as a potential Jedi Knight."
	Anakin slowly put the cup down. It made a hollow clink as it
met the table surface. "A Jedi Knight."
	"Yes, I said that."
	He leaned over the table, pushing the cup aside. "Obi-Wan,
you're an intelligent man, aren't you?"
	With a wry smile, Kenobi said, "I like to think so. Why do you
ask?"
	"You don't really believe in all this Force nonsense, do you?"
	The smile peeled away. "I take it that you don't."
	Anakin snorted indulgently. "I've seen this sort of thing
before. The system where I grew up there weren't any Jedi, but there
was a priesthood with total authority. The temples had the most
ridiculous rules about keeping this or that goddess happy what colors
you can wear, how many times to chew your food, what you can't do with
your sister but all of them were just ways of controlling people who
don't know any better.
	"I got off planet as soon as I could. The sweetest sight I
ever saw was Leucothea disappearing down that hyperspace funnel, and I
hope I never see that place again. But the entire Jedi organization
reminds me of that priesthood a lot of talk about the supernatural,
and not much to show for it except a lot of rules."
	The older man set his utensils down and closed his
eyes. Arcadia's cup popped into the air and hovered in front of
Anakin. He shrugged and flicked the cup with a finger, setting it
spinning, then pulled it down.
	Impatiently, he said, "Yes, I know. But I don't see why you
Jedi make so much fuss about a little psychokinesis. All that talk
about center and balance makes it sound like a circus routine. Why
should it make any difference to the universe whether you pick
something up with your hand or your mind?"
	Kenobi had opened his eyes and was steadily gazing at
Anakin. "It doesn't, much. But the Force flows through all life and
all matter, and the mind is both. When you use the Force, your intent
can be as important as your actions."
	"You're spouting dogma, Obi-Wan." Anakin leaned back. "And get
out of my mind, will you? I thought we could talk frankly."
	"Aren't we?"
	"I was thinking about what you said earlier. I never thought
my senses were different from anyone else's, or that other people
can't feel some of the things I can. But it's the Force, isn't it?"
	"Yes."
	"Well, I was hoping you could teach me how to use it without
stuffing me full of religious propaganda."
	Dropping his gaze, Kenobi began to collect utensils on his
empty tray. "Do you know, I was going to ask you to train as a Jedi?
But if you don't want to learn about the Force itself, I don't think
we should speak of this matter any further."
	"Oh, come on, Obi-Wan. You really believe the Jedi doctrines?"
	"They're not just doctrines. I'm not a Master, and I don't
know much about Force theory, but I can feel the way it works."
	"You mean you've been told they work."
	Kenobi stood up, tray in hand. "I don't think we should
discuss this any more. Ask Arcadia about the Force. Maybe she can
convince you." Tardily, Anakin began to gather up Arcadia's tray,
preparing to follow, but Kenobi sharply motioned him back. "No. If
you're ready to listen tomorrow, come back.  But no more talk
tonight."

*   *   *

	"But Dia, why shouldn't I come to Ikatya now? Father's family
is ending my stipend next year, so I should start a career before
House Colton cuts me off entirely. Even if Commander Skywalker is
taking leave, I can still use the time to settle on base."
	Seated before the comm panel in her private quarters, Arcadia
closed her eyes and tipped her head back against her chair. "Denis,
it's not too late to change training assignments. Are you certain you
want to join Crescent Squadron? I'll admit it has the best combat
record on this base, but there are starship assignments with similar
records the _Ravage_, the _Frenzy_..."
	When she opened her eyes again, her brother's hand sized holo
image was shaking its head. Although both siblings had the fine boned
Alderaani build, only Denis had the dark hair of the Antilles. He
brushed this out of his eyes as he answered. "I think Ikatya base is
the only real option. Both you and General Kenobi are there, and...."
He tilted his head, considering, then shrugged. "Well, our dear Aunt
Danah "
	"Great aunt, twice maternal."
	"Whatever. She's made it known that she'd appreciate the two
of us staying in a single location, so as to both be monitored with
less effort."
	"Denis!"
	"Well, we both know that Danah's been keeping watch on us, and
she certainly knows it. So," he took on unnaturally emphatic tones, "I
doubt this news will come as a surprise to her when she reviews this
tapped transmission."
	"Don't bait her. We're living on her sufferance."
	"And that's why I have to train at Ikatya, unless you want to
be on a medical frigate at the battle frontiers." He paused
uncertainly. "Is something wrong with Crescent Squadron? Or with
Commander Skywalker?"
	"There was some... statistical irregularity. General Kenobi is
smoothing things out. As for the commander, I only met him today, and
that by accident.  He's self assured, but I don't know anything about
his real skills." Arcadia glanced at the small state portrait beside
the comm panel. "But why has Princess Danah tightened security?"
	As Denis made a vague response, he blinked in a familiar
message pattern: one blink, two. One blink, two. _I'll tell you the
truth when we can speak in private._
	Arcadia sighed. "In private" meant in person, in a location
too public or too distant from Alderaan to be tapped by its royal
house. In this case, it would have to be both. "So when do you arrive
at Ikatya?"
	This time, his reply was undercut by chime tones from
Arcadia's apartments.  "The convoy leaves tomorrow," Denis said. "But
someone's at your door. Should I sign off?"
	She frowned. "No; I'm not expecting anyone. This should only
take a moment."  She stood, lightly stretched, and crossed the chamber
to the entrance portal.
	As it slid open, Anakin Skywalker chuckled. "You step away
every time we meet. May I come in?"
	"You already have. I'm sorry, but I'm otherwise occupied at
the moment. If I could contact you later "
	Denis could hear the tension in her voice, but was unable to
see anything but the chair on the comm transmission tile. "Dia, is
something wrong?"
	"'Dia'? A family nickname, I take it is that your famed
brother Denis?"  When she reluctantly nodded, Skywalker moved to the
transmission tile, leaning on the back of Arcadia's chair. "Hello
there. Your sister has told me so much about you."
	The boy's voice nearly cracked. "Commander Skywalker? Is that
really you?"  With visible effort, he pulled himself into a semblance
of military posture.  "I mean, it's an honor to meet you, sir. I
hadn't expected it until I got to base but are you really going on
leave for a month?"
	Skywalker cast a sideways glance at Arcadia, who had seated
herself with a data pad on a wall mounted bench. She looked up at him,
then back down to the pad as he sat down in her chair. "I will soon,
but I may stay on base. Next training rotation doesn't start for a
month anyway, so you'll only have your first few weeks with my
replacement. Your academy records are quite good, by the way. Do all
cadets start multiplanar tactics that early now?"
	"A lot do, ever since you used them at Raek Starfall. How did
you ever..."  Arcadia closed her eyes again, stifling a yawn as Denis
continued effusing.  She had worked long hours today, and her evening
meal, although not especially good, had been filling. Denis's and
Skywalker's voices blurred into alternating washes of sound.

*   *   *

	Anakin grinned foolishly as he powered down the comm
panel. Even after several years, he still had not lost the thrill of
being a hero. His flight and fighting performance in his first battle,
the seige of Ysdaa, had propelled him into the notice of General
Kenobi, who had been coordinating planetary and fleet maneuvers
there. His squadron's strategy at Raek Starfall had become
legendary. His success was so spectacular that Kenobi transferred him
out of danger to a training position, in hopes of teaching his skills
to other pilots.
	Leaning back, he steepled his fingertips, still smiling. When
Obi-Wan had made him a trainer, he had resisted fiercely, resentful of
being pulled from combat. But he had since learned the advantages of
this post. Granted, it lacked the electric delirium of real warfare,
but he enjoyed shaping the reflexes of his students. Some were cadets
just out of the first level academies; others were already veterans of
several campaigns. All of them looked to him as a master of the craft.
	His reverie was broken by a small noise behind him. He had
half forgotten Arcadia; when he turned to look, he saw the data pad
finish slipping from her hand. She lay curled on her side, her feet
still shod and hanging off the bench toward the floor.
	She woke after he had already carried her around the room
once, and was considering another circuit. Without moving, she tried
to decipher her situation she was bunched up in the air, her hair
smeared across her face.  When she opened her eyes, she could see a
broad uniform clad chest pressed against her nose. She remembered that
vantage point from earlier in the day.  "What are you doing?"
	He nearly dropped her. "Oh you're awake. I was going to put
you to bed, but the only other door I found goes into medical. Where
are you hiding them?"
	"Put me to bed?"
	"I couldn't leave you sleeping on that bench."
	"I've only this one room; there are no other doors. And that
is my bed."
	He looked at the bench again. It still looked like a bench,
cloth surfaced and unpadded. "How can you sleep on that thing?"
	"Usually quite soundly. May I request that you put me down
somewhere?" He placed her on the bench again, in a half seated
position from which she immediately slid down the wall onto her side
again. With an effort, she levered herself back up. "Thank you for
your concern, really, but "
	"It's nothing," he said modestly. "But as long as we're
exchanging courtesies, would you like me to apologize for this
afternoon now or tomorrow?"
	"Whichever more pleases you."
	"In that case, it can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll need a few more
hours to get into a properly groveling state anyway." He saluted,
pivoted with military precision, and left.
	She watched the door owlishly for a while, to make certain he
wasn't coming back in. With a sigh, she pulled a mantle from a wall
hook behind her, and lay down wrapped in it. After a moment, nearly
asleep again, she nudged her shoes off.
	On his way back to his own quarters, Anakin whistled softly to
himself, carefully considering what he had learned from Denis.

*   *   *

	"...And if it requires a war to bring the Republic back to its
former glory, then perhaps we should be grateful for war." Palpatine
ignored the shock around him in the Senate, raising his resonant voice
to drown out dissent. "We have spent the last century bickering and
feuding amongst ourselves. Before the Nechti came to our borders, each
system fought against its neighbor, in armed combat or with economic
strangulation. The galaxy wasted many lives and credits in these
struggles for petty advantage.
	"But since the arrival of the Nechti, we have ceased our
internal quarrels.  If we can retain this solidarity after the Nechti
are defeated, our combined power will be greater than ever before."
	A gaunt woman near the front said bitterly, "You are quite
blithe about the Nechti. You would be less so if you had seen the
border systems: Avisa stripped to magma; Martelle reft of its
atmosphere my diplomatic suite and I are all that remain of the people
of Erenat."
	Senator Palpatine lowered his eyes. Knife edged crescents of
gold gleamed from beneath his lids. "I do not wish us to forget the
many innocents who have lost their homes, their families, or their
lives to the Nechti. But think of all the similar losses our internal
battles have claimed. If we can eliminate such sad waste from our
Republic by remaining united, then the Nechtian victims will not have
died in vain.
	"But let us forget the future for now. We must deal with the
present. It is true that relatively few systems have met with the
enemy to date, but is there any doubt we must unite now to drive them
out?"
	Castra Gatou yawned flamboyantly. She was a tawny haired young
woman with pale green eyes; seated in Bail Organa's empty chair, she
was in the first tier, in excellent view of the council. Almost as an
afterthought, she lifted one languid hand to conceal her mouth. "Why?"
she asked.
	The Erenatese senator lunged to her feet. "Why? You've seen
the holos sent by the Nechti, and you ask why?"
	"Why not?"
	Palpatine turned a speculative eye on the princess, while
waving the Erenatese back. "Your Highness of Alderaan, do your people
have so little compassion on those less fortunate than themselves?"
	Castra smiled, showing all her teeth. "Less fortunate? The
border systems brought this war upon themselves. Avisa and Martelle
were the planets that first met with the Nechti; they made secret
trade agreements with them for their technology. They willfully
violated the laws of the Senate and the Republic by keeping knowledge
of the Nechti civilization a secret. And you of Erenat " she gestured
at the livid ambassador "in fact, your very family signed the Nechti
pact with full intention to violate it.
	"And once you did... well, small wonder that the Nechti sought
revenge on you. What concern are your border squabbles to the rest of
the Republic?"
	"The Nechti have advanced far past the border by now,"
Palpatine began, but Castra flicked her nails at him.
	"Past the borders of your own summer planet, you mean. My own
opinions aside, you can hardly expect my people to support armed
intervention in your internal affairs. If you can't maintain civil
relations with your neighbors, why should we enforce them for you?"
	"Civil relations?" Palpatine elevated one eyebrow, smiling
warmly. "Oh yes, Alderaan has always been known for its peaceful self
government, especially as carried out by its web of noble kinsmen who
are all " his smile attained angelic proportions "terribly civil to
one another."
	"Enough of this squabbling!" In the open center of the
chamber, the President of the Senate lashed the rostrum with her
gavel. She was a stately Twi'lek, whose cranial appendages were
shifting like cats' tails under their wrapping of silk. "Senator
Palpatine, the Alderaani vendettas are not the subject of this
debate. And if I may say so, Your Highness of Alderaan, the diplomatic
failings of the border systems are irrelevant as well. Avisa and
Martelle have already been destroyed."
	"And Erenat," the gaunt woman whispered.
	"And Erenat. Whatever their complicity may have been, the
Nechti have surely taken vengeance. But now other systems are being
attacked, ones with no prior involvement whatsoever. These are the
peoples whose aid we are determining.  The period for debate has
ended. May we call the vote?"
	As the Senators drew together in small groups, Palpatine
stepped down from the central dais. A Senate page with two bowls of
pebbles passed through the chamber, giving every Senator a stone from
each bowl, one black and one white.  Leaning on the rail near Castra's
seat, Palpatine jounced the pair of stones in his hand. "Which one do
you plan to cast at me?" he asked her.
	"Surely you're planning to cast yours first."
	"It's the President who gets to throw the first stone of the
season, my dear." They watched a second page approach the Twi'lek with
a tall, opaque urn, into which she inserted her hand wrist deep to
conceal the pebble she released. The remaining pebble was dropped into
a disposal chute beneath the rostrum, for later collection from a
common receptacle. "Purely symbolic, of course, but then so much of
politics depends on visible symbolism."
	As the page passed by, they dropped their respective pebbles
into the urn, then the chute in Castra's desk. The remote comm camera
in the corner lingered on Castra and Palpatine after the page had
moved on. In a leisurely fashion, she spat in her hand and slapped
him.
	"Your Highness, desist," the Twi'lek snapped. "I will not
permit physical assault of other Senators. If you should become
President, you may change policy to suit yourself. But as long as I
hold office, I will not allow it."
	Palpatine dismissed the guards who had hurried to him from the
Coruscanti suite. "I doubt intervention is necessary, unless Her
Highness plans to escalate. Have you any objects sharper than your
tongue? A brace of whips, perhaps?"
	"Regrettably, no." Castra rose, gathering her train over one
arm. "But you may yet persuade me to give a different answer." Tracked
by the comm recorder, she left the Senate chamber before the tally was
complete.

*   *   *

	In his private apartments, Palpatine keyed the holoprojector
to replay the day's events. He leaned back and watched himself
complete his speech. "...But let us forget the future for now. We must
deal with the present. It is true that relatively few systems have met
with the enemy to date, but is there any doubt we must unite now to
drive them out?"
	His companion touched her goblet to his. "Marvelous arm
gesture. Think it'll catch on?"
	"I hope to gain followers for more than a gesture." After a
few sips, he reliquished his wine for a wafer of mycotal pate. "How do
you think the rebuttal was received?"
	They watched Castra flick her nails. "If you can't maintain
civil relations with your neighbors, why should we enforce them for
you?"
	"It seems to have polarized your opposition." She streaked a
dab of pate down his throat, then began to remove it with small
motions of her tongue. Between licks, she said, "Only a few systems
agree with that argument, and those are wealthy and stable. But the
rest realize that if they have famine or civil war, and have already
voted against centralization, they'll have little help from the
Senate."
	"So it broke the tie in the Senate by turning the balance in
my favour," Palpatine said, dabbing pate elsewhere.
	She slid her hand down his opened robes. "Astonishing, isn't it?"
	On the projector, Castra slapped Palpatine and left. Behind
her, the collected pebbles were tallied by colour. The Twi'lek said,
"The measure to ally against the Nechti has passed. This session of
the Senate being concluded, I resign my office as President, unless my
name is again chosen by lot at the next session." As the data tape
ended, the projector clicked off.
	Palpatine lifted his mouth from bare skin. "I've always
thought that was a strange way to select a leader."
	"I take it you've a better idea? Don't you dare tear this gown."
	With exaggerated care, he gathered the skirts into a fine foam
of lace over her thighs. "I think highly of it. But then, it is my
idea."
	"Naturally." A burst of breath escaped her, and she muffled
the sound against his shoulder. "But don't you think we've had enough
of political debates for today?"
	Palpatine pressed her deeper into the cushions, watching her
green eyes darken to match the jade velvet. "Have we?" he murmured.
	"I should think so," breathed Castra Gatou.



                           ARCADIA: PART 2

	Marit Rouvel opened her eyes and immediately closed them
again. She remembered the impact against her armor, and the rising
tide of sound in her head as she left training bay. She was not sure
why she was lying down now, or whether she wanted to know.
	"You're in medical quarters," a soft voice said above
her. "Don't try to speak yet; just nod or shake your head. Can you
feel my hand on your fingers?  On your wrist?"
	A silvery shadow swam into focus, a fair-haired woman in
grey. As Marit's vision cleared, she saw another figure behind the
healer, entering the antechamber beyond. "Commander Skywalker?" Her
voice cracked.
	He raised one hand from the pockets of his
fatigues. "Rouvel. Good as new?  Arcadia should have you up in no
time."
	"What happened?"
	Arcadia pared a thread of skin away, sealing the graze with a
finger following after. "You were hit by blaster fire in training
session yesterday.  I've repaired the physical damage, but you should
rest a few days to recover from the shock." Marit looked uncertainly
at her shoulder. "There's no scar, but your body remembers the
injury. Would you rather recuperate here or in your own quarters?"
	"I'll go back to my bunk." She wobbled alarmingly as she got
to her feet, but managed to keep her balance. Her folded uniform in
hand, she disappeared into a cubicle to remove her medical
smock. "Sir, will I be able to leave base with the rest of the group?"
	"That's for Lady Arcadia to say."
	"If your recovery permits," Arcadia said. "If there's any
discoloration or hemorrhage, come back to medical."
	"In any case," Anakin resumed, "there'll be other transports
to the front.  You needn't worry you'll miss the war."
	Arcadia followed her to the door, ready to catch her if she
stumbled; when Marit hobbled out, Arcadia called up her medical
files. Anakin remained behind her. "Think she'll recover in time?"
	"If I haven't altered her geneprint, she can leave whenever
she is strong enough to go. Otherwise, I will have to destroy the new
tissue and rebuild it more carefully." She opened a panel and fed it
the paring of cells. Since a brief flicker when Marit greeted him,
Arcadia had not met his eyes, nor did she do so now. "Are you always
so eager to send your students to their deaths?"
	"There's a war going on. People die in wars. The faster it
ends, the fewer deaths there'll be."
	"I suppose you could look at it that way."
	His voice hardening, Anakin said, "You'd prefer I took each
death personally, wouldn't you? Do you think it's easy for me, knowing
I'm sending half-trained children against the Nechti? My last active
mission was the seige of Nkabe. We got to our Headhunters just ahead
of their ground troops.
	"I recognized some of the Nechti: members of my squadron who'd
had their fighters shot out from around them. Maybe they ejected, and
the Nechti captured their command pods-- I don't know. But their faces
were completely blank, like paper masks. The scars--" He grimaced,
remembering.
	"Just as we launched, the Nechti destroyed Nkabe behind
us. One shot from their starship, and a wall of flame poured over the
whole surface. There was nothing left behind it but bare stone and
steam.
	"The Nechti are capturing our own people for cannon fodder. If
they can't take a planet, the Nechti burn it around them from
orbit. And all this time, the Senate can't decide whether it would
rather send reinforcements or debate bacta tariffs. If I brooded over
every cadet I sent out-- I can't teach them everything I know, but at
least I was giving them some knowledge of what it's like out
there. And now, nothing at all."
	"You could speak to General Kenobi again. He'd like you to."
	"I'll think about it." He watched the wall console blink. "Do
we need to stick around here, or are you still working on that?"
	"I'm on duty. Don't you have a squadron to train?"
	His smile was full of teeth. "Kenobi put me on leave
yesterday, as you may recall. But thank you for your concern."
	"He wasn't enforcing it immediately."
	"No, but if I'm going to leave a few senior cadets in charge,
I'd best start them off while I can still tell them what they're doing
wrong."
	"What can you tell them if you're not there?"
	"I'll check on them in a few hours." He shrugged. "I was
planning to use the intervening time to make amends for yesterday. You
don't seem interested in my contrition, though, so I may as well talk
to Obi-Wan."
	She spread her hands, neither rejecting nor encouraging
him. "Say whatever you feel you must, then. If that means silence, so
be it."
	Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall, his mouth in a
sharp curve.  They regarded one another wordlessly for some moments,
until the console made a whirring noise and beeped. Arcadia turned to
it and dimmed the panel.  "General Kenobi should be in his office by
now," she said.
	"That's good." He eyed the chrono, but remained where he was. 
	"Is there something you require of me?"
	"Not really." He shrugged again and turned away. "I'll see you
later, I suppose. You'll be meeting Denis when he arrives, right?"
	"Yes."
	"I can see you're looking forward to it. Later, then."
	Arcadia did not look toward the door until it closed. On the
other side of the antechamber, her desk drawer catapulted steel into
the air. She caught the saber handle and dropped into stance as the
remote flared to life above her.

*   *   *

	General Kenobi looked up from his desk. "Ah, Anakin," he
said. "Sit down, won't you?"
	"Morning," Anakin said. He stretched out his long legs before
him, contemplating the sheen of his boots. "Decided what to do with
me?"
	"I'm still putting you on leave, if that's what you mean."
	"Yes, well, I did want to discuss that with you. Not that I
want to stay on teaching duty," he added quickly. "In fact, just the
reverse. I didn't want training rotation in the first place; you know
that. If my teaching methods aren't effective, then why keep me here?"
	Kenobi exhaled. "I hope you didn't deliberately injure your
students to make this point."
	Anakin looked disgusted. "I did the best I could with
them. But I'm just not cut out for training, and you know it. Can't
you post me back to the front?"
	"My influence is currently limited to this base. I can't be
sure of finding you another command position outside it."
	"Excuse me, sir, but you can." Anakin leaned forward. "I
stopped by Arcadia's quarters last night--"
	Kenobi raised one eyebrow, then the other. "Did you?"
	"Not on those terms." He shook his head ruefully. "But she was
on the comm with her brother, and I ended up chatting with
Denis. Aldea sector will be sending new reinforcements through here
soon, he said."
	"True, but that hardly--"
	"The flagship will be led by an inexperienced young officer
who'll relinquish command to you as soon as he arrives. Now if this
Lord Geoffrey or Justin is any indication, there could be a shortage
of officers in the lower command posts as well."
	Kenobi sighed. "I was told that might happen, but hoped it
wouldn't. But if that's the case, then--" His head snapped up. "What
name did you say?"
	Taken aback, Anakin said, "Who?"
	"The Alderaani scion bringing _La Belle Dame_ to Ikatya."
	"Lord Justin Semble, I think. Why?"
	"And Arcadia heard Denis say this?"
	"She'd fallen asleep already. Why, does it matter?"
	"Yes." His holo receiver began to flash. "That'll be my orders
for the front.  If you would, go tell Arcadia what you've just told
me."
	Anakin's jaw tightened. "Is that an order?"
	"No, but I'd be grateful." Kenobi flicked a pointed glance at
the comm. "Now if you don't mind, I've business to attend to."
	As Kenobi whacked the buzzing comm, Anakin slipped out of his
office. He paused in the corridor, considering both directions before
choosing the way back to medical.

*   *   *

	"That girl is a menace to herself and everyone around her,"
Danah snapped.  "Not to mention us on Alderaan. Why didn't you leave a
chaperone with her?"
	Bail developed a sudden preoccupation with his data pad. Over
its edge, he said, "She isn't completely unattended. And it's Castra's
right as Princess Consort to represent us in the Senate. I'll grant
you she's young, but you were nearly the same age when you married
Father."
	"Yes, but I had the sense to know what I was doing!" She
hurled her comm across the empty audience chamber. It struck the floor
with a loud thwack, then several softer ones as components bounced out
of the casing. A droid instantly whirred from a hatch, polishing the
lapis tiles as it swept up wires and glass.
	A sentry peered into the chamber, but Danah dismissed him. She
waited for the double doors to reclose before continuing. "That speech
was the most undiplomatic defense I could have imagined. If she were
defending us against a traffic charge, we'd be taken out and shot. Why
did you leave her in your place?"
	"You wished to confer about a domestic crisis. I might note
I've seen no imminent revolution since I arrived."
	"The crisis is your marriage. If it remains barren for much
longer, I shall insist you end it."
	"Insist?" Bail laid his data pad in his lap. "Perhaps this is
a shock to you, but I have been the ruler of Alderaan for twenty
years."
	She glared at him. "It is your duty to govern Alderaan, and I
wish you would do it properly. While I can fulfill some duties in your
place, getting you an heir is not one of them. Castra is clearly no
political asset; if she is sterile as well, she is worthless. If she
cannot bear your children, find someone else who can."
	"You and Father didn't produce me until a few decades after
your marriage.  Why impose such an urgent schedule on mine?"
	"Because other noble houses are approaching Arcadia for
betrothal." When he started, she nodded slowly. "Oh yes. She may be
harmless by herself. But if she weds into House Liachne, or Ivaru, or
one of the great guilds, how patient will they be? Any child you get
will stand between the throne and her-- and through her, them.
 	"I have no fond cravings to dandle grandchildren, Bail. I am
trying to persuade you to save your own life."
	He folded his hands over the data pad and regarded them for a
while. "With such views, I am surprised you delayed getting heirs for
so long."
	"Davit and I had two children before you." Her eyes
closed. "They were twins, born the year after we wed. They died in the
vendettas."
	"You never told me this."
	"We did not want you to grow up in fear. It seems you learned
fearlessness too well. But if I must throw your sisters' blood in your
face to bring you to your senses--"
	"Mother," he said, his voice low. "You are making this a
choice between lives. You say I stand ready to be killed on Arcadia's
behalf. But you would do the same to her and Denis, if Castra were
with child."
	Danah's rings ground into his sleeve. "Is she?"
	"I've no word either way, and it may be best for it to remain
so."
	"Ah." She drew back. "And if she is not, and remains so, will
you divorce her?"
	Bail leaned down from his seat. From the cushion on the dais,
he took the formal coronet of Alderaan and placed it firmly on his
head. "I will not. And we have delayed court long enough." He keyed a
remote signal on the data pad, signalling the guards to allow the
waiting ministers and suppliants into the palace.
	As footsteps and voices began to slip through the doors, Danah
gathered her train over one arm. "You are welcome to it," she said as
she rose.
	"Where are you going?"
	"I am going to pack. Castra cannot be trusted to represent us
in the Senate.  If you are staying on Alderaan, I am going there to
watch her."
	"You can't mean that."
	"Oh, but I do." She kissed his cheek and smiled, as graciously
as he had ever seen her do. "The _Tantive_ should be ready for
departure before court is over. I will see you when I return from
Belconnen."
	She glided out the private entrance before he could think of
something to say. "Damn it," he said.
	As the wide double doors began to open, he inclined his head
toward the group beyond. Fingers ablur on his data pad, he said, "Your
pardon for the delay, but there was a matter that required private
communication." He finished the message and pressed the transmit key.
	Setting the data pad down, he beckoned the first party
forward. "Ivaru Lady Anei, your house has requested permission to
communicate with Lady Arcadia Antilles, exiled from Aldea sector. I
deny permission, as I see the Princess-Dowager has done already, and I
ask that no further petitions of the sort be made by you or any other
house. When we are pleased to rescind Lady Arcadia's exile, we shall
do so. Until then, she is not to be mentioned in this court."

*   *   *

	As the door to medical opened, Anakin ducked out of the
way. Drawing his blaster from his belt, he edged back toward the
opening, trying to see whatever had launched plasma at him.
	"Sorry," he heard Arcadia say. The low electric hum snapped
off. "I wasn't expecting anyone, and this remote goes after anything
that moves." She leaned out into the corridor, wiping her face with
one sleeve. "Oh. It's you again."
	"What are you doing in there, splicing power couplers?" 
	"Saber practice. I have eight hours of duty every day, and
I've only seen four patients this week. I have to do something the
rest of the time." She folded her arms over her robes as he
rose. "Which one of your cadets did you mangle now?"
	"Listen," he snapped, "I'm only here to do Kenobi a favor for
you. Believe me, it won't happen again."
	"So what is it?"
	"Justin Semble's coming to Ikatya." He turned away, but she
pulled him back.  Her face suddenly had a seige's scarred exhaustion,
and the sounds of Nkabe swirled around him.
	She seemed to review long ranks of words before selecting
one. "Why?"
	"He's bringing the Aldean reinforcements. When I passed the
word to Obi-Wan, he sent me to tell you about it."
	"Denis told you." She hardly seemed to hear his answer. "Have
they left Alderaan yet?"
	Her apprehension touched him, despite himself. "Their
scheduled departure isn't 'til 051. They'll stop to investigate
reported Nechti activity near Aricia; another cruiser might join them
there. Semble will be handing the flagship to Kenobi as soon as he
arrives, so he won't be going into combat.  Are the two of you--?"
	"So he'll stay here at Ikatya." She inhaled sharply and
straightened. "Thank you for the news," she said, and withdrew back
into medical.
	He made it through the doors before they closed. "What did I
say? I wasn't even trying to insult you this time."
	"It isn't you. Forgive me, but I must go to my comm." Leaving
her deactivated lightsaber on the desk with the remote, she swung a
panel open and stepped into the wall. Anakin recognized her private
quarters on the other side.
	She disappeared behind a carved screen in the corner; a drawer
opened, fabrics rustled, and Arcadia's robes poured over the top of
the screen. As he stared at them, she emerged around the side, shaking
out a fold in the gown she had put on. It was violet damask, so pale
that its color could only be seen by contrast with the decolletage's
white lace and her white shoulders rising from it. She had undone her
hair as well, and it spilled over her like sunrise across the morning
sky.
	Opening a compartment in the screen, she extracted a strand of
blue fire. She began to draw a silk cord over her head, but evidently
decided to leave it in place, its pendant half-hidden in her
bodice. She glanced up at him as she twined her hair up with the blue
jewels; abashed, he retreated back through the panel.
	The transmission tile beneath her flickered to a steady glow
as she entered a comm code. Although he could not see the holo, he
heard it buzz twice and click. There was a pause, then a surprised
voice. "My dear lady, I believe you have the wrong code."
	"I don't think so. Is this the captain's quarters of _La Belle
Dame_?"
	There was a longer pause. "Yes, it is. Who are you?"
	"Arcadia Antilles. You must be Lord Justin."
	"Yes, but-- ah. Yes. Lady Arcadia." Justin laughed
nervously. "It's quite an unexpected pleasure to set eyes on you at
last. And if I may say so, you are even lovelier than your
portrait. If--"
	"Oh, stop it," she said. "I don't know where you got a copy of
my identification holo, but it scarcely qualifies as a portrait. I
gather from Denis that you received my letter."
	"You seemed to misunderstand my intentions. I hoped to arrange
a meeting in person, so we could discuss the matter more fully and,
er, confidentially. If you can wait a few hours to discuss this--"
	"I understand well enough." Her voice had a clear, honed bite,
like the edge of a glass knife. "Alderaani law prohibits any
communication with exiles without the consent of the ruling
house. Marriage to them is out of the question. I don't know what
conspiracy House Semble is planning, but I want nothing to do with
it."
	"Please, be little more circumspect," Justin whispered. "If
anyone were to overhear, I could be ruined." 
	"Ruined? You mean exiled and attaindered, as I've been? What
do I have to lose?"
	"You have everything to gain from marrying me. I could restore
your rank, return your family's possessions--"
	"If you could get them back from Princess Danah."
	"I beg you to reconsider. We simply must meet in person--now
that I've seen your face, I'm strangely attracted to you."
	On the other side of Arcadia's chair, Anakin saw her dip one
hand outward.  "I've already declined your proposal in writing. I am
now doing so over the comm. I will consider it tedious if I have to
decline you in person. But perhaps this will provide the necessary
emphasis." As her fingers curved, a gleaming blur shot past Anakin; he
reflexively snatched it from the air. She moved her fingers again, and
the lightsaber handle tugged toward her in his hand.
	When she glanced back, she was astonished by his smile's
incandescent mischief. He strolled into the room and deliberately
stepped onto the comm tile. The receiver holo revealed Lord Justin as
a stocky young man in an ill-fitting uniform, brown hair
unconvincingly streaked blond. Anakin leaned into Arcadia's chair and
kissed her, dropping the saber into her lap.
	Justin made some sound of surprise and alarm. Anakin would
have stepped back then, but Arcadia slid her hands up into his hair,
thoroughly disheveling it as she deepened their kiss. By the time she
released him, he did not want to move away. Her fingers touched his
mouth, gently pressing it apart from her; half-dazed, Anakin backed
off the tile to the bench behind.
	"Um," Lord Justin said, with desperate urbanity. "I'm sure we
can come to some sort of understanding about this. After all, this is
primarily a matter of political alliance. And whoever this-- your--
er, he can't reverse your banishment, after all. If you marry me, I
could--"
	"Could you." An azure flash leapt up, snarling. As Arcadia
held the lightsaber, it purred and sizzled in her hands. "I'm not
simply an exile, Justin. I'm also a Jedi. I don't need to remind you
about the laws of the Republic concerning Jedi and politics, do I? Or
Alderaani precedent for both?  I might also point out that if you
pursue this matter-- or me-- any further, I will be annoyed." She
lowered the saber, pointing it directly at him. "And we wouldn't want
that to happen, would we?"
	Justin squeaked. It was a tiny noise like a fork scraping a
plate, and Anakin enjoyed it immensely. "No, no, of course
not. Forgive me for having disturbed you; now I simply must go." The
background static of the comm went off. After a moment, so did
Arcadia's lightsaber.
	She swiveled her chair toward him but kept her eyes carefully
averted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have involved you in this."
	"I involved me in this."
	"All the same, I shouldn't have escalated..."
	Despite the direction of her gaze, she could hear that
astonishing grin in his voice again. "I think I can find it in my
heart to forgive you. What was all that about, anyway?"
	She made a face at the comm, moving away to sit beside
Anakin. "Lord Justin wants to marry me. I don't."
	"I gathered that." He contemplated the slim metal between her
hands. "What was the bit about Jedi and politics?"
	"Marriage is only the head of the comet. One of the aspects of
Jedi training is mind control; by learning to discipline your own
mind, you can shape the thoughts of others. You can see how this might
be an unfair political advantage."
	"Did someone demonstrate this on Alderaan?"
	"They tried. When my-- when another member of my family
attempted to overthrow House Organa, years ago, she enlisted a Jedi as
an ally. Eventually he saw that if he continued to assist her, he
would enter the Dark Side of the Force. He thought he could save them
from further corruption by confessing everything. It might have
worked, except that while he was doing so, she took a step beyond
redemption. Princess Danah had her and her consort executed."
	"The Jedi?"
	"He did tell everything to Danah, but if he had spoken
earlier, the assassinations could have been prevented. She promoted
him to General, but sent him off Alderaan into the fleet. And she
placed Denis and me in his custody.
	"From her perspective, General Kenobi was an excellent teacher
of morality. I don't think House Semble agrees, but you can't make
everyone happy."
	"You don't seem very happy," he said softly.
	"Sometimes I wish General Kenobi had not taught me so well. I
know what House Semble and all the rest have in mind, and part of me
wants to join them and avenge my family's ruin. But I know all the
reasons why it's wrong, and why I should stay clear."
	"Kenobi could have brainwashed you into thinking that, under
orders from Alderaan."
	"He didn't brainwash me into seeing the vendettas. I was only
a child, but I remember the terror and the blood. And my mother's
death." She let out her breath. "I'll do anything I can to stop the
vendettas from beginning again. If the Alderaani nobility decide this
means all Jedi are spies for the royal house, at least they will leave
me out of it."
	As she raised her head, the strand of jewels slipped its clasp
and fell out of her hair. "Oh, bother," she said. "Well, at least I
can get these things off now. After the way Lord Justin was fawning at
me, I feel slimed all over."
	He lifted the stones from her lap, fingertips barely touching
the moonstone damask. "Expensive slime, isn't it?"
	She laughed, loosening her hair about her shoulders. "Princess
Danah wanted Denis and me to look decent for Prince Bail's
wedding. The only reason I wore it now was because the noble houses
will only treat you as well as you're dressed. As for the jewels,
they're worthless, or Danah would have taken them with the rest of the
family holdings."
	He turned the blue facets in his hands, watching the light
spatter from them across Arcadia's face. Unlike the stones, her eyes
were a silvery brown, like clear water over mica sand. "They seem
heavy for glass."
	"Oh, they're not glass. They're flawed lightsaber crystals."
In illustration, she ignited her saber again. Its blade's flame was
the same blazing hue of desert sky. As he began to reach toward it,
she pulled it away. "It's not a toy," she warned.
	"I just wanted to look at it. General Kenobi was talking about
Jedi training last night, and I got curious. Actually," he added,
almost offhand, "he said I should ask you more about it."
	He could not quite decipher her face this time, eclipsed as it
was by the saber's light between them. "Did he now?" The saber hissed
off, and she gave it to him as she rose. "Well, you can hold this
while I scrape off my slime."  As he waited for her reappearance, he
turned the weapon in his hands, listening to every sound of cloth and
skin behind the carved screen.

*   *   *

	"Your Highness!" Justin Semble wailed. "Your Highness, I must
speak to you, please!" The young nobleman stumbled down his ship's
ramp to the hangar floor.
	The royal guards closed ranks around Danah as she continued
toward the _Tantive_. "How nice for you," she said.
	Circling in front of them, Justin planted himself in their
way. "Your Highness, I beg of you--"
	Her mouth twisted. "I am in haste. You may send me letters at
your leisure."
	"About Lady Arcadia?"
	Danah finally gave him her full attention. He was no longer
sure he wanted it. Pinioned between two of her guards, Justin tried to
keep step, but ended up half-dragged onto the _Tantive_ behind her. In
the consular suite, she seated herself as they searched him. "No
weapons on him? Leave us." She eyed the crest on his uniform. "Young
Lord Semble, is it? Now, what do you wish to say of Arcadia Antilles?"
	"She's at Ikatya base, and I'm taking the Aldean fleet there."
	"Two ships are not a fleet. And I didn't give you command of
them."
	"They'll be given to General Kenobi at Ikatya, I know, but I
asked Prince Bail to let me take the sector flagship there."
	"Very enterprising of you," she said coolly. "Do you think to
use it on Arcadia's behalf? If you move against my son, I will destroy
your house."
	Justin winced. "The thought never crossed my mind." Or not
that last thought, anyway. "I came to give you a warning about her."
	As if he had not spoken, Danah tapped her fingers against the
table, silently moving her lips in tally. "House Semble has eighteen
legitimate heirs distributed over three estates. An efficient sweep
could eliminate all of them in one day."
	He hunched farther down into his chair. "Arcadia seems to have
taken up with a Jedi Knight. If family precedent is any guide, she may
be plotting against the royal house. As a loyal supporter of House
Organa, I--"
	"I am certain of General Kenobi's loyalty," she said,
emphasizing the other man's name.
	"It's not General Kenobi." He began to babble to distract
himself from her regard. "It's a younger man, tall, with dark hair. It
wasn't anyone I recognized, but he didn't look Alderaani. He was
carrying a lightsaber, and--"
	Danah's voice cut smoothly through his. "When did you see them
together?"
	"I-- well-- that is to say--" Justin gave up. "He was with her
this morning when I spoke to her by comm."
	He might have delivered a particularly banal
formality. Indifferently, Danah examined one hand, turning her rings
one by one so that the jewels faced inward. Then she lashed her palm
against his face, leaving stone-gouged furrows behind. "You want
revenge for being thwarted of a traitor's alliance, do you?"
	As he cowered, bleeding, she said in the same low tones, "When
you reach Ikatya, discover this man's name, and whether General Kenobi
knows of his association with Arcadia. Tell me these two things and I
will consider your vengeance for you. If you fail me, I will forbid
your return to Alderaan, even to pay respects to the ashes of House
Semble. Do you understand me? Now get back to _La Belle Dame_ and out
of my sight."

*   *   *

	Arcadia reemerged much as Anakin had seen her in the mess
hall, wearing a close-fitting tunic and leggings. She had replaited
her hair but left it unpinned, and she batted it out of the way of the
wide belt she was wrapping around her waist. Anakin was waiting for
her, dormant saber in hand. "So what is Jedi training all about?"
	She motioned him to her desk, where she pulled out a carafe
and ran water into it. As he settled into her chair, she said, "I'll
make tisane for us first. This is apt to be tedious, and you didn't
taste as if you had breakfast."
	If he had been drinking tisane at the moment, he would have
sprayed it all over the desk. As it was, she merely patted his back,
remarking brightly, "And you with a bad cough, too. You shouldn't
neglect your health this way." She set the carafe on a thermal tile
and hitched herself onto the desk to sit aslant from him.
	"I can only tell you about elementary training," she
began. "After a certain point, the training of Jedi Knights and
Healers diverges. The basics, however, are nearly identical.
	"The first step is simply learning to sense the flow of the
Force. I suspect you have that down already. After that, it's a matter
of letting the Force guide your actions as you guide yourself."
	Anakin leaned one elbow on the desk. "So the idea is to become
a puppet of the Force?"
	She smiled. "The viewpoints of healers and warriors are bound
to differ. My work releases the Force to impose its own design,
strengthening the flow of life and restoring the original
balance. General Kenobi would be more likely to use the Force for his
own purposes, controlling things he cannot reach himself.
	"As a rule, it's safe enough to extend one's senses with the
Force. It flows through you then, and carries you with it. But when
you use it for your own design, it's as if you build a reservoir to
contain it. If not properly channeled, the pressure may break you."
	"Send you mad, you mean?"
	"There are other ways to destroy yourself with power." Her
hand went to her throat, touching the cord of her necklace. "But I
believe the carafe is ready.  I've cups in that drawer, if you don't
mind fetching them." Soft bubbles broke the surface as she added a
measure of granules and swirled.
	He took a filled cup, sipping cautiously. "What is this
stuff?"
	"Tisane. It's a mixture of things-- pods, malt, crushed
cane. It's good for you, especially in your ailing condition."
	"I'm glad I tasted it before you described it." He let the
flavors play around his mouth, closing his eyes as he swallowed. His
second mouthful drained the cup. As she refilled it, he lifted the
forgotten lightsaber in his hand. "So when do I learn how to use
this?"
	She seemed taken aback. Behind her own tisane, she said, "I
don't think I'm the one to teach you such things."
	"Why not?"
	"I chose a different path." Her voice was distant, only
gradually returning.  "Only a Jedi Knight is a true master of the
lightsaber. General Kenobi knows more of the art than I do."
	"But I saw you using this," Anakin persisted. "You can't say
you're completely ignorant."
	"No; I said I can't teach you. There's a difference." The
saber leaped out of his grasp into hers. "You can watch me practice
with the remote if you like. I was planning to do that until Denis
arrives, unless an actual patient comes in. But I'd prefer not to let
you wield this without proper training, and that I can't provide."
	Anakin grinned. "Sounds fine to me. I learn fast." Although he
had seen Kenobi use the Force, there had been no special empathy
between them. But in the aftermath of Arcadia's kiss, he could still
sense her thoughts, like shadows seen through a door left open. He saw
how Arcadia had called the saber to herself, and he extended his arm
and his will in the same way. The remote flew to him from the other
room. He tossed the sphere to her, and she weighed it in her hand,
studying him. "Ready when you are," he said.

*   *   *

	Castra Gatou leaned closer to her reflection. She tilted her
head, gauging the jewelled gold wrapped around her throat. "I think
this should do," she said.
	"A small enough price to pay." Palpatine traced the bare curve
of her back.  She was reclining near the mirror at the foot of his
bed. He watched her with the same measuring gaze she had for the
necklace. The full sleeve of his formal robes followed his hand over
her skin. "After all, I should have required ten times that sum to buy
the votes you brought to me."
	She wrinkled her nose. "Bribery is such an unpleasant word."
	Leaning down, he set his teeth in her shoulder, just hard
enough to make a mark. "Reality is often unpleasant, my dear. But
perhaps you know that already."
	"Marriage can be instructive that way."
	"Indeed." He folded his arms, a smile flickering at the edge
of his mouth. "A pity Bail Organa doesn't appreciate your true worth."
	"I prefer not to discuss my husband," Castra said. She looked
away from the mirror at last, sitting up and pulling her discarded
gown over her head. She coiled her tawny hair into place, green eyes
shadowed. "Can we meet again tomorrow?"
	Palpatine's pause was nearly imperceptible. "I don't think
that would be wise."
	"You're right, of course. I've been away from the Alderaani
suite too often of late." She slid one shoe on, but did not fasten
it. "Perhaps next week, then?"
	This pause was longer. "Perhaps. But for now, you should
certainly return before anyone notices your absence. You won't be able
to excuse yourself with midnight walks in the gardens forever."
	"No, I suppose not." She unfastened the necklace and arranged
it over her fingers. "Very well, I'll see you in the Senate. Thank you
for the jewels. And for everything."
	He had crossed the room as she spoke, and leaned beside the
outer doors.  "Believe me, the jewels do not begin to convey my true
feelings for you." He held one hand out to her, half-bowing. "Good
day."
	By the time Castra had gone a few steps into the gardens, the
door had closed behind her. She looked back at it, invisibly locked
behind layers of foliage.  The necklace's facets bit into her hands as
she pressed them together; with a quick motion, she gathered her
skirts and ran through the branches, away from the walls and into the
light.
	She had nearly regained her composure by the time she reached
the Alderaani suite. As she entered, she heard the steward say, "Your
Highness, I didn't expect--"
	"I knew I'd lost that necklace in the gardens," she
announced. And then she turned her head and saw Danah.  

*   *   *

	"Arcadia? Is something wrong?"
	She let the remote fall into her hand, shaking her head. "No,
I-- it's about time for the Aldean contingent to arrive, I think."
	"One last cup of tisane," Anakin said, lounging. Even with the
interplay of remote and saber shut off, faint aftertrails of light
streaked his vision.  "Sure you don't want one yourself? You look a
little peaked."
	"A few hours of sparring will do that." The strain she felt
was more psychic than physical, but she was not sure what was causing
it. Perhaps it was merely the pleasant tension of Anakin's presence,
she thought. Or Lord Justin's imminent arrival, or the unknown news
from Denis.
	"Arcadia? I said, are you ready to go?"
	"Sorry." She draped her outer robes around her and pinned her
braid back up before she followed him out.
	Anakin paused in the doorway, blocking her path. "You're
leaving your saber behind? If Lord Justin hasn't given up yet, a
closer look at it might change his mind."
	"I'm beginning to think he hasn't a mind to change," she
murmured.  Nevertheless, she let the saber come to her hand, clipping
it to her belt as they left her quarters.
	"I'm checking my cadets on the way, if that's fine with
you. If they've shot themselves to bits, at least you'll be right
there, and it won't've been my fault this time."
	The cadets appeared to be intact. Anakin leaned farther into
training bay to make certain. "You're supposed to be recuperating,
Rouvel."
	"I'm just watching them," the girl offered. "I wanted to make
sure I wouldn't miss anything. And anyway, General Kenobi caught me
suited up earlier and made me sit down."
	Passing through the corridor behind them, Kenobi overheard
this last comment.  "You certainly motivate your squadron," he said
dryly. "I take it the two of you are on your way to welcome the Aldean
ships as well?"
	Arcadia considered the general before straightening a ribbon
on his dress uniform. "I think I can welcome Denis. The rest of the
contingent might be too much for me to manage."
	"The lower observation deck for that hangar is always crowded;
you might have better luck in the upper one. I'll be in the control
room myself," Kenobi said. "You're welcome to join me, but I thought
you might prefer to avoid Lord Justin."
	Anakin stepped back out from training bay, having offered his
cadets whatever corrections they deserved. "I think we'll take the
upper deck," he said.
	"Then you'd better be off," Kenobi said, already striding
away. "That turbolift is slow, and the hangar's far enough as it is."
	By the time they gave up on the turbolift, they could hear the
hangar's magnetic seals powering down to admit the Aldean ships. The
stairs were dusty from disuse. At the last landing, Anakin growled, "I
didn't know they still made these things."
	"There were a lot of stairs where I grew up. They stunt your
growth," Arcadia said. "Or at least, they make ascent such a chore
that growing taller is too much of a bother." From her place four
steps ahead of him, she turned about and smiled, at eye level with him
at last. "We're here now, anyway. And so are they." Beyond the
stairwell, the upper observation deck was empty, though the hangar
beyond it was not.
	The flagship alighted on the hangar floor, flanked by two
other cruisers.  Behind them, the magnetic seals and defensive shields
snapped back up with a visible sizzle of ions. As the atmospheric
pumps repressurized the docking bay, the space-chilled hulls beaded
over with condensation. The disembarking passengers' uniforms
identified them as a mixture of cadets, recruits, and transferred
personnel; all of them stifled yawns or stretched stiff joints, eager
to explore their destination at last.
	Behind her in the observation deck, Anakin said, "Is Denis out
there yet?"
	"I don't see him. It's strange, really; all the cadets seem to
have come out already. But perhaps he's still gathering things on
board."
	Anakin approached the window. "Maybe so. If he boarded when
they left Alderaan, I hardly think he'd've gotten off partway."
	"Unless he deserted at stopover to get away from Lord
Justin. Speaking of which, there's the clod now, with the Semble
martlets all over his chest. He looks taller than I expected."
	As Anakin reached the glass, he glanced down. "Bloody hell,"
he whispered. He drew his blaster and swung it into the window. As the
fragments fell into the hangar, he fired at the crowd below.
	She dragged his hand down. "Anakin, what--"
	He had already struck the blond-streaked officer. Instead of
falling, the man struck the smolder out of his uniform sleeve. The
surface of his arm came away with it, revealing a dull metallic
sheen. As he looked up at the observation deck, his face's shadow fell
away from his throat, where a vivid crystal pulsed and flared. Seen in
the light, his face was scored with crimson-- four clotted scrapes
across one cheek, and a solid line of blood around the rest.
	A spray of intersecting plasma bolts barely missed Anakin as
he ducked beneath the window ledge, dragging Arcadia to the floor with
him. "They're Nechti, damn it. They've all got those throat-crystals,
or didn't you see them?" He crawled to the squalling intercom and
whacked it. "No, I'm not out of my mind. Seal off the hangar, now!
	"Well, can't you blow out the seals? Yes, I know that would
kill us, but it would take the Nechti with us!" The comm rattled with
an electronic shriek and fell silent. "Damn," he muttered. "We'll have
to run for it now."
	"If the Nechti took our ships, we've got wounded out there,"
Arcadia began.
	"If that's Lord Justin's face you saw out there, they took it
off him for one of their own. Our wounded are the Nechti salvage heap,
and we'll be part of it unless we move." He whipped down the stairs
and began to run farther into the base, toward his cadets in their
training bay. Arcadia scrambled to her feet and followed him as best
she could.



                           ARCADIA: PART 3

	The necklace glistened on Danah's glove. She examined it as
the droid unfastened her mantle. "A pretty thing," she said. "The gems
are particularly fine."
	Castra smiled. "Yes; you can see why I was eager to find it
quickly. The clasp must have slipped. But surely nothing's happened to
Bail, or why have you come to Belconnen?"
	"Bail is quite well." She shrugged the mantle from her
shoulders, extending her free hand for its glove to be unbuttoned. "I
find it curious that such fine work would not extend to the clasp. I
do not recall this piece from your dowry, nor was it one of mine. A
recent acquisition?"
	"Surely you didn't come all this way to turn over my
trinkets. Why are you here?"
	"To ask you the same question. Why are *you* here?" As Castra
snatched for the chain, Danah removed her glove, dropping the necklace
into the inverted palm. She relinquished the tentacular pouch to the
droid. "Activate your welding module."
	Castra folded her skirts around her as she sat, green eyes
suddenly vivid.  "Whatever for?"
	"We can't have you losing your new toys. I am having the clasp
sealed around your neck. Now, where did you get it?" She took a cup of
tisane from the waiting tray, watching her daughter-in-law watch her
over the steaming rim.
	"Your mouth seems dry," Danah said. "Have some tisane."
	She pressed her hands against her lips, as if praying. "I
can't. I'll be ill." Behind her, the droid finished its work, fanning
the fused metal before settling it back against her skin.
	"One lump or two?"
	"What do you want from me?" Castra whispered.
	Danah considered for a moment, then dropped two lumps of
sweetening into Castra's cup. Setting it before her, she took her own
chair. "The truth, I think, would do nicely. Do you love my son?"
	Castra could find no answer. "If not," Danah continued, "I
believe both of us would be happier with the very amicable terms that
could be settled on you.  Leave him now, and no reprisals will
fall. But if you delay your decision too long, I will decide for
you. I did not survive twenty years of feuding only to have my son
left heirless."
	"Well, you needn't fear *that*," Castra snapped without
thinking.
	Danah's cup shattered its saucer. "Pray continue. How long
have you known?"
	"Longer than you, I think." She permitted herself to smile,
and touched the gems at her throat.
	"I see," Danah said slowly. "Bail always was a thoughtful
boy."
	"It's time you stopped treating him that way."
	"Evidently so." She rose, brushing crumbs of porcelain from
her lap. "Well, I mustn't tire you, and I ought to prepare for today's
session in Senate."
	"Do you intend to take my seat from me?"
	With unaccustomed weariness, Danah said, "It is Bail's seat,
not yours. Do you realize the enmity you've inspired within the Senate
in his place? I do not want you to take any chances with your health
or your child's; in the interval, I shall do the best I can to salvage
Alderaan's standing in the Republic." She regarded the necklace once
more, its topazes gazing back from the heart of the filigreed
web. "This is quite lovely. Bail had a fine sense of irony to
commission a Coruscanti jeweler for the piece," she said, and
withdrew, leaving Castra staring uncertainly after her.

*   *   *

	The defenders fled down the corridor until they reached
another set of blast doors. General Kenobi staggered through, one hand
pressing down on his wounded thigh, the other hand around Anakin's
shoulders. He limped to a wall and leaned heavily against it. As soon
as the last member of the group had crossed the doorway, Anakin leapt
for the control panel, then swore with great enthusiasm. "They're
jammed!" he shouted.
	An engineer ran from the other side of the chamber. "Doors in
back're jammed too. Must be the power coupler for this section. If we
can move one set, we can move them both, but neither's budging now."
	Anakin quickly scanned the walls. He jabbed a thumb at a
black-panelled hatch. "What about that?"
	The engineer shook his head. "Access to the asteroid
surface. No good without pressure suits."
	"We could blow this room into vacuum with a thermal charge,
then."
	"Yes, but--"
	"I didn't mean with us in it," he snapped. "They couldn't
reach us beyond.  What's behind those other doors?"
	A small information droid snaked around the engineer's leg. It
extended a speech orb and recited, "Space in question is hangar bay
B-3-21, sealed off for repairs. Magnetic seals are faulty; outer
access has been blocked with metal panels to maintain atmospheric
integrity."
	"Can you clear the power coupler?"
	An explosion echoed down the corridor. Both men ducked back
down as the Nechti troops rounded the corner ahead; the droid scurried
behind the engineer. "Not unless someone can hold them off," the
engineer answered. He glanced at the brown-clad woman beside
him. "Lisel?"
	"Just don't fire at them from behind me. I don't want to
bounce anything back into us." Lisel stepped into the narrow doorway,
lightsaber in hand. The sunset-glow blade seemed to block the plasma
bolts of its own volition, moving the woman's body with it. The Nechti
stayed some ten meters away; evidently, previous encounters with Jedi
had taught them to keep out of lightsaber range, and they were taking
no chances. Behind her, the engineer passed a scanner over the
panel. Several droids clustered about him, beeping frantically.
	"Right," Anakin said. He lowered his voice. "Get those thermal
charges ready-- who's got them? Rouvel? Thessa? Set the timers to two
minutes, but don't start them yet. Just under the access hatch, got
it?"
	Farther back, Arcadia leaned over General Kenobi, who was
waving a second healer aside. He had slid down the wall to the
floor. "Never saw the bolt," he muttered, inhaling sharply as she
probed his wound. "But then, those are the ones that always get you."
	Cautiously crossing behind Lisel, Anakin returned to Kenobi's
side. "Can you heal him?"
	"Yes, but not yet. If you're setting those charges, we'll have
to move out of this airlock as soon as the doors are unjammed." She
glanced up at the open doorway; the engineer was slapping down one
droid's outstretched pincer. "And if they can't be unjammed... even a
Jedi can't hold them off forever, and there's no use in my healing
anyone if the Nechti kill us all."
	Kenobi snorted. "They'd prefer to take us alive, if we let
them. I don't know what they want, but it isn't conquest. Otherwise,
they'd've taken the border systems and held them, not destroyed them
and passed on."
	Anakin shook his head. "Then what in hell's name do they
want?"
	As if to corroborate Kenobi, the Nechti commander halted her
troop's fire.  She was an imposing figure in her green and white
uniform, the Nechti new-moon crescent ablaze at her throat. "We have
no wish to destroy you," she called.  "Will you surrender and join
us?"
	Lisel stared levelly back. "You've forced yourself into our
borders for three years now. Why should we make your invasion any
easier for you?" Behind her, Anakin and the other warriors slid their
blasters from their belts.
	The Nechti commander beamed. "Invasion? Certainly not. We only
seek to extend our friendship and goodwill to you."
	"At gunpoint."
	"We mean to explore this territory for natural resources. It
will be easiest for all of us if you cooperate. But if you don't, our
explorations will still continue." The Nechti flicked her gaze over
Lisel, then the assorted group behind the defiant Jedi: some
battle-ready warriors, like Anakin and Kenobi; others, untried cadets
and noncombatants, like the engineer still pounding at the control
panel. The droids, depending on their function, clustered around the
engineer or toward the back of the room. Arcadia finished bandaging
Kenobi's leg and looked toward the doorway.
	"Other members of your Republic have already joined our
confederation," the Nechti continued. "Will you not do so?"
	Lisel did not move. "Nerf spit," she said.
	The Nechti smiled. "If you insist." She stepped back; her hand
was a flash of silver as she gestured. A spinning blizzard of plasma
bolts converged upon the doorway. At first, Lisel was able to block
them all, but soon bolts began to slip past her guard.
	Over the noise of impact and ricochet, the engineer called
over his shoulder, "The coupler's unjammed. Can you open the rear
blast doors?" The rear doors slid smoothly open.
	"Get moving," Anakin barked. "Thessa, set those things up and
start them.  Come on, move!" He extended one hand toward Kenobi, but
the older man gestured sharply.
	"Make sure that hangar's secure first," Kenobi
ordered. "Better to lose me than lead all of us into a trap." Anakin
hesitated, then advanced into the hangar's entrance corridor; the rest
of the group, human and droid alike, bolted alongside and ahead of
him. Arcadia, on the verge of following, froze an instant before
another plasma bolt spattered against the wall, one pace before
her. In the same instant, the engineer cried out.
	"Rannis?" Lisel looked behind her. The engineer fell to the
ground, his back smouldering. He did not get up. Five more plasma
bolts plunged through the distracted Lisel. Her lightsaber dropped and
rolled away, extinguished.
	Having scanned the hangar, Anakin returned to the corridor
junction to retrieve Kenobi. Both men saw Arcadia step over Lisel's
body into the path of the Nechti charge. Before either could cry out
to her, she took up her own saber in a flare of blue light. Over her
shoulder, she said, "Anakin, please take those two and General Kenobi
into the hangar. The door won't last long, once shut; the Nechti are
setting up a small assault cannon."
	His face pale, Kenobi said, "Dia, are you certain you want to
do this?"
	She was already parrying the Nechti barrage. "Yes. Please
hurry. We haven't much time."
	"Are both of you crazy?" Anakin looked from one to the other
in disbelief.  "She's asking for her death, and you're going to let
her?"
	"Permission is hardly the issue." Kenobi struggled to his
feet. "We've less than a minute left. Get those two into the hangar; I
can still move on my own." He lurched toward the unblocked doorway and
nearly fell, but cuffed Anakin away. "I can get there myself, damn
it-- Lisel and Rannis can't."
	By the time Kenobi had limped five paces, Anakin had already
dragged Lisel and Rannis into the hangar. He ran back and pulled
Kenobi past the blast doors, eyeing the charge timers as he did
so. "Arcadia!" he shouted. "We're all through now; come on!"
	Her soft voice was somehow able to penetrate the noise of the
Nechti attack.  "I can't reach the control panel. Can someone cover my
retreat?"
	"What do you mean, someone?" Blaster in hand, Anakin raced
across as Arcadia darted out of the doorway. He shot at the assault
cannon as the Nechti began preparations to fire. Two Nechti troopers
fell, but his blaster had little effect on the weapon's armor
plating. Even as Arcadia pressed the controls, they could see an
ominous glow begin to erupt from the cannon's mouth.
	Anakin scooped one arm around her waist and hauled her away,
already running.  He extended his blaster across her body and shot the
doors' control array as soon as the blast panels met. In the same
instant, the cannon struck the other side, spraying a fine mist of
sparks through the crevices.
	"Fifteen seconds to detonation," the charge timer intoned.
	A second volley hit the doors as Arcadia looked
back. White-hot fragments shivered off like snow from a shaken branch.
	"Come *on*, Dia--" As he charged into the hangar, Anakin
pulled her off her feet again. Backhanding the controls, he leaned
against the doors as they closed; Lisel's dead saber flashed into
Arcadia's hand through the gap. The last sound they heard through the
narrowing sliver was the Nechti assault cannon completely destroying
the far side of the antechamber. The machinery at their backs ground
to a halt, latched, and sealed shut. Only a soft *whump* was audible
as the thermal charges detonated, but the vibrations shivered through
their bodies and the heavy sheet metal of the floor.

*   *   *

	Anakin opened his eyes in the hangar's entrance alcove, grimly
surprised that he was still alive. "Of all the stupid, suicidal--do
all of you Alderaani have death wishes, or is it just you and Kenobi?"
	"Do you really think I wanted to do that?" She deactivated the
still-glowing lightsaber. "If there had been any other choice, I would
have gone into the hangar with the rest."
	"There were other Jedi who could've--"
	Kenobi levered himself away from the wall. He had been
standing near the door controls, ready to activate them, but Anakin
had simply swept him out of the way. "Who did you have in mind? I was
in no condition to hold them off. Lisel certainly couldn't, and Nisca
had duties here." He indicated Lisel and Rannis, crumpled on the
hangar floor. The other healer, a stocky bearded man crouched beside
them, glanced up at his name before returning to his work.
	Arcadia simply batted Anakin's face. "Finish scolding me
later, please. I've work to do." She knelt beside Nisca, clipping the
lightsabers to her belt as medical droids extended sensors all around
them. "Do you need my help?"
	"Take Rannis, would you?" Nisca spoke without lifting his
hands or eyes from Lisel. The woman's limbs were lightly jerking, as
if in restless sleep, but her body was charred through.
	Rannis moaned as Arcadia probed the wound through his
chest. The bolt had torn through his torso, entering at the base of
his spine and angling up through his left lung. The wound made a
ghastly susurrus as he tried to breathe.
	"Aren't you going to anesthetize him?" Anakin asked from
behind her.
	Tearing open Rannis' uniform, she shook her head. "His life
signs are too erratic. If the droids give him an anesthetic spray, he
may stop breathing."
	She extended her hands for one droid to wash with an
astringent mist; working quickly, she dried them in another droid's
air-jet and plunged her fingers straight into the blackened cavity of
the lung. The man feebly cried out and tried to curl onto his side,
but Anakin dropped to his knees and held him down. In the wound, she
swiftly rotated her wrist in a gesture like someone washing the inside
of a cup, and pulled her hand back out. The new flesh boiled up behind
her touch, nearly closing over her fingertips.
	Touching Anakin's wrist, she edged him away so she could turn
Rannis over and heal his back: first reconnecting the severed loops of
intestine, then bridging the gap in his lower back, both vertebrae and
spinal cord. The repairs showed as dark rippled scars, without the
smooth finesse she usually employed. She leaned forward, nearly
fainting. "I can't... do more right now.... When he wakes, tell him--
tell him I'll check the nerve connections when I can." Taking several
deep breaths, she sat up again, swaying. To the side, she could hear
Nisca begin to unwind a long skein of expletives. Lisel was dead.
	One medical droid nosed up against her, proffering a sleek
needled appendage and another mist nozzle. She used the latter to wash
the blood and char from her hands. "Yes, you can give Rannis a
sedative now. Massive antibiotics into his abdominal cavity too, and
osmotic regulators-- no, I don't need a stimshot. At least--" She
looked around for Anakin. He had paced away some distance but came
back beside her. "Is anyone else still badly hurt? I think I can
still--"
	Even as Arcadia began to move toward the others, Anakin pulled
her back.  "They'll live. If you keep pushing yourself this hard, you
won't. And you're going to rest if I have to sit on you to make you
lie still. Now do I have to sit on you, or are you done?" His voice
had softened somewhat, and she looked up at him with surprise.
	"If there're no other serious injuries, but surely--"
	"Except for these two, we left all of the badly wounded behind
in our retreat. They're in the hands of the Nechti now." He met her
eyes steadily.  "There was nothing else we could do."
	Without responding, she crossed over to Nisca, who was still
staring down at his failure. Taking Lisel's saber handle from her
belt, she cupped the dead hands around it. Anakin steadied her as she
stood up; when she leaned on his arm, he tightened his jaw, but said
nothing. Nevertheless, she pulled back and apologized.
	"It's nothing," Anakin said, steering her into the main
hangar. "This can wait 'til later."
	"I didn't know you were shot; when--"
	"You nicked me with your saber when I was pulling you into the
hangar."
	She closed her eyes in horror. "You mean I wounded you myself?
The Healer's Code--"
	"I'm sure the Nechti would have done a more thorough job." He
slapped her careful hands away. "Don't you dare heal me until you've
slept."
	The main body of the hangar contained several ships trapped by
the magnetic seal dysfunction. Anakin's cadets and the other personnel
were entering these in search of supplies; he relieved one cadet of a
scavenged blanket and wrapped it around Arcadia's
shoulders. "Damesta-- is there a cot set up, somewhere quiet?"
	"No cots, but one of the research vessels had Jidaf-style
officers' quarters just inside; try the ramp access of the
_Perceptor_."
	Under the ministrations of another medical group, General
Kenobi watched Anakin guide Arcadia into the _Perceptor_. Halfway up
the ramp, her feet gave way and she began to fall, but Anakin caught
her up and carried her into the ship. Kenobi smiled broadly, then
winced as a droid stuck another needle into his leg.

*   *   *

	Inside the ship, it was dark and quiet. The heavy bulkhead
screened out the echoes from the hangar: orders snapping to and fro,
calls for comrades and family members, the grating sound of supply
crates being dragged across the floor. With Arcadia folded over one
shoulder, Anakin groped forward with his empty arm for a light
dial. He closed his eyes against the sudden brilliance from the
corridor panels. Arcadia's lids had already drifted down.
	The room Damesta had mentioned was beyond the first
doorway. Instead of cots, it had been furnished with a hollow of
bedding inlaid into the floor. One high storage shelf still held a few
cushions, out of reach of previous scavengers or simply
overlooked. Anakin looked up at them, his long shadow falling over
much of the room. "If I put you back down, can you keep your balance?"
	She shifted her weight, evaluating her condition. "No." When
he lowered her into the dusty bedding, she made no attempt to catch
herself, landing on her back like a dropped bundle of carpet. The
blanket around her unrolled as she sneezed, spreading the puff of dust
higher. With a muted groan, she lifted one arm to her head and coaxed
out her hair fasteners, dropping them onto the elevated floor. She
pulled the blanket around her again, then let her arm drop over her
face.
	Having retrieved the cushions, Anakin lifted her head and slid
one under it.  She felt the bedding sag as he sat down. "You know,"
she said, "I could have been sleeping at the same time you were."
	He made an inquisitive noise.
	"For the past two days, I mean. You can't be certain I was
awake the entire time."
	This time, his noise was sheepish.
	"Unless you were too," she concluded, and opened one eye to
look under the curve of her elbow. His expression matched his most
recent sound. He looked up at the doorway, his chagrin intensifying.
	General Kenobi's cheerful voice sounded from the corridor,
behind Arcadia. "I thought as much. You go to sleep too, Skywalker--
and that's an order, mind you. If you disobey this time, I'll have Dia
carve you up. Have you seen any monofilament coils in here?" He limped
in and began to examine the walls.
	With a sigh, Anakin pulled off his boots, but remained sitting
up, an arm's length away from Arcadia. "I knew you could fend off a
remote with your lightsaber," he finally said. "But I didn't think you
could manage that many live opponents."
	She had both eyes closed again, or at least the one he could
see. "There's nothing so special about it; any Jedi could have done
the same. Better, more likely-- healers have only minimal training
with the saber."
	His voice reached new heights of incredulity. "Minimal?"
	Kenobi emerged from a cupboard with a bundle of wiring. "You
know that's not so, Dia," he said mildly. "At the very least, you've
made more of basic training than others could. Your father's blood, no
doubt."
	Arcadia lifted one eyebrow in Kenobi's direction without
actually opening her eyes again.
	"So why didn't you train as a Jedi Knight?" Anakin asked her.
	She threaded her hands into her hair and began to unravel her
unpinned braid.  "I try to minimize contact with them, lest it appear
I'm following my mother's precedent. Entering their training program
would not have helped."
	Anakin gave Kenobi a questioning look. "Oh, I'm a special
case," Kenobi said.  He began to loop the lengths of monofilament
around his arm. "Her Highness of Alderaan knows me too well to expect
political interference from me."
	"But-- your mother? You're Liane Antilles' daughter?"
	"Yes."
	He exhaled slowly. "So that's why your family records are
classified. Is that why Denis took your father's name? Why didn't
you?"
	"Denis was forced into the Colton name this year, when he left
the Academy.  He forfeited his citizenship when he requested transfer
to Ikatya; if Danah wants no Alderaani to bear arms outside the
sector, you can imagine her opinion on a member of House Antilles
doing so. As for me--" She sighed.  "Matters could become
unnecessarily complex were I to assume my father's family name."
	"Oh, but surely-- wouldn't it reassure the old girl that
you've no interest in Alderaani politics?"
	"If her surveillance is any good, she should know that
already. But--"
	Kenobi broke in smoothly. "Danah doesn't want House Antilles
to end with her, I imagine. Besides, there's the matter of the
succession. Now go to sleep, children." He knotted up the monofilament
ends and left, closing the door behind him.

*   *   *

	In the darkness, Anakin could hear Arcadia breathing
quietly. "But surely the Alderaani succession was settled by the
Senate, years ago," he offered.
	"It was, for the most part." The direction of her voice
shifted as she curled onto her side toward him. "The arbitrators
decided that the Organas had precedence, but that the Antilles were in
fact the next house in line. That was nearly the death warrant for all
of House Organa, until Danah married Prince Davit to merge their
claims."
	"Where does your branch of the family come in?"
	She sighed. "My grandmother was Helice Antilles, Danah's twin
sister. There was no clear seniority between them; naturally, each
considered herself to be the leader of the house. When Danah made her
alliance, Helice vowed to kill her and the Organas, or to die
trying. She had to settle for the latter."
	"And Liane was Helice's daughter."
	"After she married into House Colton, my mother swore a pledge
of political neutrality modelled after the Jedi oath. Danah honored
it. It was a bad decision for her, but a worse one for Prince Davit."
	"And you're the last member of House Antilles."
	"Unless Denis reclaims the name. But Danah would have to
reinstate his citizenship to allow that." She yawned. "Which is one
reason why I have to keep the Antilles name, in case the succession
ever does come to me-- which I hope it doesn't."
	"It doesn't sound all that undesirable to me."
	"Danah would marry me off to one of her court officials at
once. In fact, she may do so within the next few years, if Prince Bail
has no children. Believe me, I have no desire to become an ornamental
consort-- but if I'm to play any role on Alderaan, that's all I'll be
allowed."
	Anakin burrowed a little deeper into the bedding. "Why not
rule in your own right?"
	She laughed sleepily. "With Princess Danah still at court?
Besides, I have no political experience."
	The conversation lapsed into silence, until Arcadia spoke up
in faintly accusing tones. "You're shivering, aren't you?"
	"Well, I wouldn't call it shivering..." said Anakin, folding
his arms more tightly around himself.
	"Are you cold?"
	"A bit cool, perhaps-- but I'll be fine."
	"Don't be silly. There's enough blanket for both of us."
	"Are you sure-- I mean, I don't think we ought to--"
	In a fluid motion, she brought her body next to his, curving
her blanket-fledged arm around him. "Hush," she murmured, brushing her
fingertips over his mouth.
	He lay in the dark with his eyes wide open. "Arcadia?" She
made some soft sound, nestling her head against his shoulder. He could
feel her unbound hair spilling over his throat, cutting his breath
short like a silken garrotte.  "Arcadia...."
	She was asleep. "Damn," he said softly, and did his best to
follow her lead.

*   *   *

	He woke instantly when she turned about in his arms. "Is it
morning?" she asked drowsily.
	"No way to tell in here. But my chrono says it is, barely."
	"Ah." She made a soft purry sound in her throat as she sat up
and stretched.  The blanket clung to her clothing for a moment, held
by friction, before falling to a puddle of fabric around her waist. If
he concentrated, Anakin could make out the outlines of her body, more
by kinesthetic intuition than the dim light seeping around the
door. He told himself to stop concentrating.
	"Well," he said softly, "when did you learn where I came from?
Did Kenobi tell you, or did you check my personal files?"
	"Mmm? Neither; I don't know at all. Why?"
	"Are you certain you don't?"
	She drew her hair over her shoulder to finish braiding
it. "Yes, I'm quite certain. Does it matter? Now where did I put my
pins...."
	"It might matter. On Leucothea, we'd be married now."
	Arcadia sat very still for several moments before pulling the
filigree pins from her hair and setting them back down. "Leucothea's
your home?"
	"Not any more. But I was born there." As she continued to
stare at him-- or so he gathered from her frozen silhouette-- he
added, "I take it last night's events weren't deliberate, then? I
wasn't certain, after that talk of your aunt Danah marrying you off."
	"Danah," she whispered. "Princess Danah will be livid. Even if
we escape the Nechti, she'll have us killed."
	He touched her wrist. "Arcadia, the situation isn't
irretrievable. There weren't any witnesses to what you did, and I
won't hold you to it unwillingly.  Drawing me under your covers is a
pledge of marriage on Leucothea, but without the heart of the
ceremony, it has no legal force. It's like... you Alderaani give
jewelry to one another at weddings, don't you? What are they,
bracelets?  Rings?"
	"Rings."
	"Well, it's like that. Without the proper actions and intent,
a ring alone means nothing. I suppose the same is true of us here, if
you wish." He looked away. "It was foolish of me to expect anything
else."
	"If Danah weren't a threat, I--" Her outburst was over as
quickly as it had begun. "Oh, Anakin," she simply said, and bent to
kiss him.
	Although astonished to the point of stupefaction, Anakin was
still able to observe his body operating on pure reflex. At least, his
conscious mind was too dazed to send any orders about. But his arms
wrapped around her waist and pulled her down.
	"Ouch," he murmured into her mouth.
	She started guiltily, still holding him. "The wound on your
arm-- does it need healing?"
	"To hell with my arm," he said.

*   *   *

	The vortex of light touched the hangar floor in a silent
explosion, blinding Rouvel. Blood-tinted veils fluttered across her
vision as she saw what the vortex had left behind: a stumbling
humanoid form. Her voice shook as she drew her blaster. "Who goes
there?"
	The shadowy figure caught its balance and looked up at
her. "Who are you?"
	"I'll ask the questions, Nechti," she snarled, gaining
confidence. "Now lie down and put your hands over your head."
	"I'm not a Nechti, damn it-- is General Kenobi here?"
	"Yes," Kenobi said from behind Rouvel. "What's it to you?"
	"Where's Dia?" As the figure stepped cautiously forward, the
dim hangar lights revealed the fine-drawn Alderaani features of Denis
Colton, born to House Antilles.
	"Denis?" Kenobi stared at him before recalling
himself. "Rouvel, he's one of us. Continue sentry duty." As the
dismissed cadet walked away, uneasily glancing back, Kenobi walked
partway around Denis, reassuring himself the boy was not a
hologram. "How in Dandenong's name did you get in here?"
	"The Nechti took our ship and captured us. They've teleported
me in to ask for your surrender. Since you've trapped yourself in
here, they can bring you out in two ways. They can port you out, if
you'll agree to join them afterwards. If not, they'll wait for you to
run out of food and air, and collect your bodies after."
	"So we can starve, smother, or defect."
	Denis grimaced, making an indefinite gesture that encompassed
his torn, blood-stained uniform and the bruises shadowing much of his
face. "I didn't exactly embrace their cause, sir. And it does seem
you're trapped."
	Kenobi stared at the frost-furred blast doors, his eyes
bleak. "When did you meet the Nechti? Did they overcome the entire
contingent?"
	"The reports of Nechti activity near Aricia-- they were
right. The Nechti took the _Dovecote_, and I think they got the Aldea
sector flagship."
	"They did. Ikatya base lowered shields when _La Belle Dame_
hailed us."  Kenobi turned back to Denis. "Where're the other
personnel?"
	"It depends. But all the casualties are headed for cyborg
conversion." Denis kept his eyes steady on the general's as he
continued. "The Nechti don't waste anything-- stripped ion engines,
salvaged corpses. So even if you choose decompression, your body will
still fight for them in the end."
	"So that's how they've been reinforcing their fleet," Kenobi
breathed. "They haven't been bringing in more Nechti from their home
system?"
	"From what I've overheard, the teleporters are only used for
intrafleet transport. I don't know if the Nechti even have a home
system or sector; when they need more troops, they just... make more."
	"From our dead."
	"Or their own. It doesn't matter to them, as long as they have
enough mechanical parts to fit the cyborgs with. But what message do
you want me to carry back?"
	"Carry back?" Kenobi repeated. "They'll teleport you back out
of here, then?"
	"They've given me two hours to get your decision. We don't
have much time.  I'd like to see Arcadia, if-- is she here, or...?"
Denis faltered.
	"She's in the _Perceptor_." Kenobi nodded at the research
frigate. "Commander Skywalker is with her, if you'd like to fetch them
both out. I need to confer with the senior officers about this, and
the two of them should certainly be included."

*   *   *

	When he began to shift his weight off her body, she locked her
ankles together behind his knees. "Caught you," she murmured with a
drowsy laugh.  "I'm not letting you go now."
	He kissed her again, taking his time. "I don't want to escape;
I just didn't want to crush you."
	"I'll be fine if I can just get some air...." Sliding her hand
up from his back, she moved her tumbled hair off her face, and tucked
her chin above his shoulder.
	"Why didn't you say anything before?"
	Her laughter rippled up again, floating around them like
petals on a pond.  "About air? We were a bit too occupied for
conversation."
	Anakin could feel the blood rushing to his
face. "Um. Actually, I meant--"
	"Yes, I know." Her body briefly tensed. "I didn't want to
bring you into Danah's web. I still don't."
	"I can protect myself. I'll do the same for you, if--"
	"No."
	Stung, he drew back from her a little. "You don't believe I
can?"
	"I don't believe you understand Danah's resources." She traced
the curve of his neck with her fingertips, feeling the pulse beat
under his skin. "Believe me, if we wed, each of us will stand in far
more danger from her than I now do alone."
	"Aren't you carrying this to extremes? You're leading an
ordinary life; what grounds does she have to reproach you?"
	"None. But she may not know that."
	He reached behind him and pulled one of her ankles free,
preparing to lever himself over it and out of her warm embrace. "If
you don't want to wed me, just say so."
	"You're right. I don't think we should."
	"Oh? Any particular reason?"
	Her soft reply came just as he was beginning to move
away. "Because I love you."
	Utterly disarmed, he let his shoulders slump back down. "You
Alderaanis must have very peculiar ideas about marriage."
	"It's not that; it's--"
	"Yes, I know. It's Princess Danah." He sighed and rested his
head against hers. "If that's the way you want it, then. But if you
ever change your mind--"
	He was interrupted by a harsh whine and a burst of light from
the opening door. "Damn it, my blaster," Anakin whispered. His sidearm
was well out of reach, buried somewhere in a heap of discarded
clothing.
	The dark shape in the doorway looked about, scanning the room
at eye level.  "Dia, are you in here?"
	"Denis?" Arcadia struggled up to her elbows, despite Anakin's
motionless weight. "I'm down here, on the floor."
	Denis moved aside, shifting his shadow off her. After a
moment, he said, "Er, yes. Among other things."
	"I am not a thing," Anakin muttered.
	"Well, General Kenobi and I need to speak with you and
Commander Skywalker-- that is you, sir, isn't it?"
	"Yes."
	"--As soon as it's convenient for both of you, that is," Denis
finished. "It is an urgent matter, though. I'll just leave the door
open so you can see."
	Anakin remained staring at the empty doorway after Denis
left. With an abrupt motion, he turned back to Arcadia. "If you meant
everything you said about Danah and myself, then as you value your
life, don't tell anyone what you did last night."
	She had already wormed her way out from under him and was
pulling her tunic on. When her head emerged from the neck opening, she
said, "But you said the declaration of marriage was invalid without
the legal component."
	"Right. You don't know what that is either?"
	"No, but..." Her voice faded as suspicion grew.
	"Consummation. Before witnesses." He donned his uniform
swiftly, saying, "You can say whatever you want about marriage,
Arcadia, but from this point on, I swear to protect you as best I
can. I'll try to be discreet about it, but--" He lowered his second
boot with a thump, settling his heel into it.
	She did not look at him. Instead, she took his injured arm and
cradled it, cupping one hand around the wound. Heat rippled just under
the surface of his skin. "If Denis has gained access to the hangar,
the news is either very good or very bad. We'd better go."



	General Kenobi walked from shadow to shadow, bending to wake
the refugees huddled under frigate hulls and transport crates. When
Anakin and Arcadia emerged from the _Perceptor_, he sent a yawning
cadet toward the remaining sleepers. "Restful night?" he asked the
pair.
	Arcadia did not meet his gaze. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
	"And how about you? All patched up?" When Anakin flexed his
healed arm in demonstration, Kenobi nodded. "Nice work, Dia. Though
you don't seem to've finished yet."
	"Sir?"
	"That's a nasty bruise on Anakin's neck. Bang into something,
did you?"
	"Now see here, Ben," Anakin began.
	Kenobi narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to. Are those
toothprints?"
	Anakin made an indeterminate sound, caught between indignation
and preening. Less ambivalent, Arcadia reached over his collar and
erased the marks. "Sir. How did Denis come here?"
	Kenobi was successfully deflected. "It'd be better for him to
say, as soon as we're all gathered." He indicated the corner where
Denis was waiting. With a last flicker, he added, "You should have
time to finish fastening your uniforms before we start."
	Anakin grinned and began to realign his fasteners as he
sauntered ahead.  Arcadia followed more slowly at Kenobi's side. "You
told me to win his trust, didn't you?"
	"His trust, yes. But this?"
	She flinched away as if slapped. Anakin and Denis both looked
up at the sudden movement; Kenobi nodded pleasantly and joined their
conversation.  Arcadia retreated to one side, her shoulders taut
against the wall. In bleary-eyed clusters, the others trickled to join
them.
	When the assembly was complete, Denis repeated the Nechti
terms of surrender to them and withdrew toward his sister. He spoke to
her under cover of the debate erupting behind him. "I have news from
Alderaan, but it seems General Kenobi already told you."
	She cradled her brother's face, smoothing the bruises from his
skin.  "Told me what?"
	"Castra Gatou is pregnant."
	Her hands fell away from him. "I didn't know that."
	Denis edged his chin in Anakin's direction. "No? Bail said he
wanted us to know before Danah finds out. To give us time to prepare
ourselves, he said. Not that it matters now."
	Both turned back to the assembly as Kenobi's voice rose. "We
have no supplies in this hangar, not even water, and the air will go
stale within days. If we had any other options--"
	"Don't we?" Anakin said. "Denis, how do these teleporters
work?"
	"I hardly think this is the time for a technical discussion,"
Kenobi began.
	"I'm not asking for ion-flow charts. All I want to know is,
are they more like a ferry or a gate?"
	"What?"
	Arcadia ventured, "Denis, does the beam lock onto a single
target and teleport that, or does it establish an open portal for a
set amount of time?"
	Denis tensed, brushing against her arm, but her attention
remained fixed on Anakin. Reluctantly, Denis said, "Maybe more like a
portal. On the _Dovecote_, they all poured onto the bridge at once."
	Anakin's face kindled into a grim smile. "So what's to stop us
from going through with you? How do they know where to open the
portal, anyway?"
	"They gave me this." Averting his eyes, Denis pulled aside the
collar of his uniform. Embedded in the hollow of his throat was the
crescent insigne of the Nechti. The crystal pulsed crimson as his
blood rushed through it.
	Arcadia examined it with revulsion. "How did they-- no, I
don't want to know. Do you want me to remove it?"
	This time, instead of merely touching her arm, he took hold of
her wrist and compressed it. "There's nothing else I can add to this
conference. I'd like to rest." While he spoke, he stared into his
sister's eyes. She saw him give the familiar warning signal: one
blink, two. One blink, two.
	"Denis, I really think--" Kenobi began.
	Denis released her arm and pulled a data pad from her
pocket. Unclipping his comlink, he spliced it into the pad and
displayed the linked devices.  Quickly, Arcadia said, "He does need
rest, and I'd like to examine him further. Denis, go to the
_Perceptor_ and wait for me."
	As Denis stumbled toward the research frigate, Anakin took two
long strides toward Arcadia and shook her. "What are you doing? He's
got the only information we have for escape. Or do you *want* to
surrender?"
	She twisted away. "There's something he wants to write
down. If that crescent transmits a homing signal, what else can it
do?" Exchanging Denis' handiwork for a fresh data pad, she disappeared
into the frigate herself.
	It took a few minutes to match the data frequencies. The words
from the pad in the _Perceptor_ flashed onto the screen in Kenobi's
hands, and the coupled comlink read them out in synthetic tones. The
group clustered around to listen. "The crescent is sending anything
within hearing range back to the Nechti. The teleporter locks onto the
crystal's carrier alone, unless they decide otherwise."
	"Can we slip through by maintaining physical contact?" The
data pad transcribed Kenobi's voice and sent the question back to
Denis.
	"They tried that on the _Dovecote_. Captain Sherrin lost his
fingers that way."
	Anakin leaned over Kenobi's shoulder. "Couldn't we just remove
the transmitter and put it in a box?"
	"I wouldn't want to try it," Denis replied by proxy. "When one
of us tried ripping it out, it exploded. Took his head and hands off."
	Undiscouraged, Anakin asked, "A Jedi could probably map out a
diagram of the thing, right? Deactivate the self-destruct mechanism?"
	"Perhaps." Kenobi grimaced. "Electrical engineering is not a
Jedi forte.  Not that Jedi engineers don't exist, but the only one we
have-- has Rannis revived yet?"
	"No," Nisca said. "And Lisel was the Jedi half of their team."
	The data pad scrolled on. "And if the Nechti retrieve the
transmitter without me, they won't treat us any more kindly for
outwitting their technology. I take it you don't want to surrender,
then."
	"Why, do you want us to?"
	Although the transcription had no way of conveying Anakin's
tone, Denis apparently deduced it for himself. "Not particularly. You
have to admit it would make things easier, though."
	"We don't join the fleet for easy."
	"But if there's no way to escape, why not accept the Nechti
terms of surrender?" As the others turned toward Kenobi, their
expressions ranging from anger to dismay, he continued, "Once they've
extracted us from here, other captives might help us escape."
	"With Nechti listening devices sunk into our flesh? What good
would we do to the Republic like that?" Nisca unconsciously fingered
his throat as he spoke.
	"We might have a chance if they don't implant the devices
right away.  Denis?"
	Denis erased what he had begun to write. He did this several
times.  Finally, he responded, "If you surrender without a fight, they
might be less harsh. But when they finally defeated us on the
_Dovecote_, they hacked some of us apart on the spot to patch their
cyborgs. We had casualties they might have used instead, but they said
fresh parts were better. I can't imagine it was a coincidence they
chose our command crew for parts.
 	"The rest of us they lined up against the wall and shoved the
devices through our skins. They weren't too careful about it. One of
the younger cadets-- I think her name was Sariene-- bled to death when
they pushed hers through an artery."
	Nisca swallowed painfully. "My daughter."
	As Kenobi turned to Nisca, Anakin fiercely rounded on the
others. "How kindly do you think they'll treat us? We imploded an
entire squadron of theirs. You think they'll consider that a peaceful
action?
	Sweeping his hand around at Kenobi and Nisca, he continued,
"If we surrender, we officers'll become spare parts, just like so many
gaskets.  And what'll happen to the rest of you? You cadets may have
to invade your own home systems, with Nechti crescents sunk into your
blood. But if there's no military use for the noncombatants, do you
think the Nechti will waste any resources on them? Where do you think
they get the skin coatings for their cyborgs?" He flung out one arm
toward one of the gutted transports, hull peeled away and coolant
reservoirs seeping out. "If we surrender, we'll end up like *that*."

*  *  *

	In the _Perceptor_, Denis peered at the data pad. Arcadia
rested her hand on his arm, sluicing blood under the skin to wash away
the bruises and dark scars. "Does anything else hurt?"
	Intent on keying his latest response, he merely brushed the
Nechti transmitter before returning his hand to the data pad. Arcadia
touched the wafer of crystal in his throat. Although it appeared to be
a narrow crescent, that was only the visible portion; she could feel
the remainder of the disk within the crescent's inner curve, buried
under his skin. When she extended her senses through it, she could
feel the minute channels and circuitry, fine veins of metal and space.
	Denis winced. "Sorry," she murmured, and took her hand
away. The transmitter was now perched on her fingertip like a bird,
the disk's edge slicing down into her bloodstream. As he stared at it,
she wrapped a fold of her robes around her hand to muffle off
sound. "I couldn't tell you beforehand, after all," she said
quietly. "If you can find a volunteer to go back in your place, I can
put the transmitter into someone else when the time comes."

*  *  *

	"Denis?" Kenobi said questioningly, tapping the data pad. "Are
you--?"
	Denis screamed. Not through the spliced comlink, but his own
voice reverberating through the _Perceptor_'s walls. "Dia, no!" A
pillar of light leapt from the frigate's hull, leaving it as
featureless as before.
	Anakin reached him first, Kenobi and Nisca close behind. Denis
was holding Arcadia's lightsaber hilt, a fragment of her belt still
caught in the clip. There was no other trace of her. "Where is she,
Denis-- if that's who you are?"
	"He can't answer you unless you loosen your grip," Kenobi
said. He tucked the coupled data pad and comlink into his pocket,
freeing his hands to pry the cadet away from Anakin's vengeance. "So
you defected after all."
	Gasping, Denis said, "No. The Nechti sent me to find her, but
I didn't know they'd do this. How could I know she'd take out my
transmitter?"
	Kenobi's face was grim. "So the self-destruct killed her
instead of you."
	"We'd both be shreds if she triggered it. They ported her up,
I'm telling you."
	Anakin straightened. "That does it. We're getting out of here,
and we'll need a ship to do it. Any other engineers with us? No? Get
Rannis up."
	Nisca protested, his voice still frayed. "He's barely
breathing as it is.  If I give him enough stimshots to revive, he'll
be dead within hours."
	"Then we'd better hope he can patch a ship together by then,
hadn't we?"

*  *  *

	In the command center of Ikatya base, Siona Brabanconne buried
her face in her hands. She had spent thirty years in the fleet, only
to come to this. Despite herself, she saw her ship as it had been, the
hull's proud arc gleaming with distant starlight. But now the
_Despoena_ was gone, a crippled derelict left adrift; the remnants of
her crew were confined to Ikatya until the Nechti flagship could join
the captured Alderaani fleet.
	She heard approaching footsteps and looked up at two recent
recruits with a captive between them. "Captain Brabanconne? We caught
her."
	"Where's our bait?" she asked. "I thought you caught her
giving him a transfusion."
	"That's what we thought from the cell readings. But it looks
like she transplanted the crystal somehow."
	"We have her now, at least. They've probably killed him as a
traitor," Brabanconne said, dismissing the matter. "Bring another
chair, and something hot to drink. Then get back to your posts, or
Commander Danville will never finish repairs in time."
	Newly seated, Arcadia chafed her wrists, unobtrusively
shifting the transmitter disc from fingertip to palm. She saw her
hands trembling and thought of Lisel. Brabanconne's lean, weary
features were intent on the pot of tisane; even when the two cups were
full, the Nechti captain did not turn to her. "Captain," Arcadia
finally said. "I was told you wished to question me."
	Brabanconne extracted a cluster of gems from one pocket, a few
pale facets held in broken links. "Arcadia Antilles? This was in your
quarters.  Where can we obtain more?"
	Arcadia glanced down at her torn belt, where her saber had
hung. "Isn't six years' booty enough for you?"
	"Booty?" Brabanconne repeated. "No. Each of our ships requires
a compound lens of one hundred stones for its translight drive. Each
planetary mantle has yielded three or four."
	"Three or four lenses? How many ships do you *have*?"
	"I meant three or four stones," said Brabanconne. The lines in
her face seemed to deepen with the words. "Admiral Jordan will bring
the flagship to rendezvous here in a few hours. If you give us more
crystals, we will take them and go. If not, she will continue to strip
planets with the _Rahab_."
	Stalling, Arcadia asked, "Why did you come here at all?"
	Brabanconne set the broken necklace on the table between them,
staring at it as if trying to read fate from the facets. Despite her
obvious strain and exhaustion, she related the journey to Arcadia. "My
ship _Despoena_ was testing the new drive system that brought us to
your Republic. Two others followed us, but at the same cost: the
long-range leap shattered the energy lenses. The crystals salvaged
from all three ships were only enough to rebuild two lenses, and we
would not leave _Despoena_.
	"Admiral Blackthorn took the _Empresa_ to Erenat to seek more
stones for _Despoena_, and she and her crew were slaughtered. As her
successor, Circe Jordan destroyed the _Empresa_ and its lens when
Erenat used them against us. You will understand that Admiral Jordan
prefers firepower to parleys now.
	"_Despoena_ was lost in our last battle, but we brought her
crystals to this ship. The ones from your quarters nearly complete our
lens. Will you give us more stones, or must we put you to further
questioning?"
	"I can't obtain more stones for you myself," Arcadia warily
said. "But there is a person on this base who knows how to construct
them."
	"I see. Do you know if she's still alive?"
	"If the group I was taken from is still alive, yes."
	The Nechti did not quite smile. "I see. And you'll identify
her only after we port out the entire group. I expect I would do the
same." The crescent in her throat glowed as she touched it. "Commander
Danville," she said. "Move the remaining survivors to a holding cell
on the _Sphinx_."
	Danville's voice replied through the crescent. "Bevan already
has his full inventory there."
	"I meant the ones in that other hangar. Can you get them out?"
	"It'll be tricky to focus the beam into there."
	"That was not my question."
	Danville grumbled under her breath. "Yes. But we're in the
middle of incorporating those new stones into the lens, and if I leave
it the whole dome will collapse. One of my aides will have to port
them out."
	"You know their skills better than I. Which one?"
	"I'd have more trust in Malison to bring them out alive, all
things considered."
	"Very well," Brabanconne said. "Send Malison in. And bring me
more tisane while she's at it."

*  *  *

	The crystal in Malison's throat was sunk in a nest of bruises,
as were her eyes. Her cropped hair was the same muted russet as the
gashes in her uniform. "Follow me, please," she said to Arcadia.
	They moved from Ikatya's command center into the hangar, which
now bore little resemblance to Arcadia's former view of it. The
once-gleaming support pillars and walls were splashed with char and
blood. As Malison led her onto one of the captured vessels, Arcadia
asked softly, "Which ship were you taken with?"
	Malison glanced around them, at the ship's scarred corridors
and the Nechti crew members passing by. "The _Sphinx_. We surrendered
when our planet was destroyed."
	"Can you help us?"
	Malison touched the crescent in her throat, wincing as she did
so. "No."  They entered the bridge of the _Sphinx_, where a faceted
coil floated in one corner. She examined the stone set in Arcadia's
hand and lowered the crystal helix around her. "You'll have two
minutes to gather everyone in a ten-meter radius, and then I'm porting
you into a holding cell."

*  *  *

	Anakin glared at the restraining field, or the space it
occupied in the doorway. "I still think this is a terrible idea."
	"Perhaps if you ask the Nechti very nicely, they'll port you
back into the hangar," Arcadia said, taping a metabolizer kit to
Rannis' arm. The engineer leaned against the wall, shaking and
painfully alert.
	"Or you could have chosen to stay there in the first place,"
Kenobi helpfully added. "Although Dia hasn't yet told us why the
Nechti have this sudden concern for our welfare."
	She relinquished Rannis to Nisca's care and surveyed the cell,
some twenty organics and droids crammed into the space of a middling
turbolift, then told them Brabanconne's demands.
	Kenobi stared back at her. "I see."
	Malison returned with several heavily-armed Nechti. Unlike her
attentive escort, she barely glanced at the prisoners in the cell. In
the same dead tones as before, she said, "Captain Brabanconne wishes
to speak with the collaborator you promised, Antilles."
	"I didn't promise--" Arcadia began, only to be interrupted by
Anakin.
	"Votary? Is that you?"
	Startled, Malison looked up. "Anakin? How did you get here?"
	"I think we both know that already," Anakin coolly said. "On
the other hand, you're the one who dedicated yourself to Leucothea's
service. And here you are, outside my cell again."
	Votary Malison went pale. "Leucothea was destroyed five days
ago. We engaged one of the Nechti ships, but their flagship arrived on
the far side and razed the entire planet. They took the _Sphinx_ as a
replacement for their own casualties. I thought I'd never--" The
crystal in her throat flared to painful brightness, and she clutched
it, gasping.
	A man in blue entered the antechamber, shaking his head. "I
hope you're not changing sides again, Votary. It'll take us forever to
replace you.  Now, have you identified the one Siona wants?"
	Kenobi stepped forward, his face grim. Behind his back, he
unclipped his saber; Denis promptly hid it away. "I believe I'm the
one you're looking for. General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Aldea sector
fleet."
	Malison's chider nodded cordially, entering a code on a
keypad. "Doctor Bevan Meda, at your service." He beckoned Kenobi out
as the barrier invisibly hummed down.
	The Nechti guards trained their weapons into the cell. Kenobi
remained where he was, blocking the doorway. "Do I have your assurance
that the rest will remain unharmed?"
	"I can't authorize that, I'm afraid," Meda smiled. "You'll
have to speak with Captain Brabanconne about that. Among other
things. But now that you mention it, I'd be much obliged if the rest
of you would disarm."
	Kenobi glanced back at Arcadia as he stepped out of the cell
and out of the guards' massed line of fire. Reluctantly, Anakin and
the others relinquished their weapons. Meda regarded the pile at his
feet with satisfaction, glancing back at the prisoners to prompt a few
laggards.  "That's a very nice thermal detonator you have there, but
we can't allow you to keep it. Thank you. We wouldn't want you to get
hurt, after all."
	"We already have casualties."
	As he resealed the barrier, Meda countered Kenobi, "The sooner
you cooperate with us, the sooner I can help them. Let's not keep
Captain Brabanconne waiting, shall we?" The guards incinerated the
pile of weapons before escorting the two men away.
	Malison lingered by the cell a moment longer. "I'm sorry to
have things end this way, Anakin," she whispered. "In spite of
everything you did, I'm sorry."
	Anakin watched her flee down the corridor, beyond the smoking
pool of blaster slag. "You're not the only one," he muttered in her
direction before turning back to the others.

*  *  *
	
	No flicker of expression betrayed Palpatine as he refused the
engraved card his aide proffered. "I'm afraid it will be quite
impossible for me to meet with Her Highness of Alderaan, especially in
light of what took place this week."
	"Yes, my lord," the man said, but remained where he was.
	It took a few minutes for Palpatine to deign to notice him
again. "You may go now," he said pointedly.
	"My lord, it's not my place to say this, but--"
	"It certainly isn't."
	"Will you at least read the card, my lord?"
	Palpatine looked up from his Senate notes with a fine look of
martyrdom, and the aide knew he was doomed. Quickly, he left the
gilded tray on the table and slipped out. No doubt to compose his
suicide note, Palpatine thought with minor satisfaction. He glanced at
the card on the tray with somewhat less complacence. Didn't that
trollop have any more sense than morals? Or was this an attempt at
blackmail?
	He lifted the card with the very tips of his fingers and
without really looking at it, as if it were a laundry item of dubious
hygiene. Regardless of her personal laxness, she would stint no
formalities on her visiting card: Her Royal Highness Castra, the
Vicereine and Princess-Consort of Alderaan. When he actually read the
card, his grasp tightened considerably. Instead of the closely-spaced
lines he had imagined, the card held only two words. "Danah Antilles,"
it said.
	He emerged into the antechamber just as Danah was concluding a
conversation with the doomed aide. Bowing deeply, Palpatine said, "You
honor me with your presence, Your Highness."
	Danah settled back into her chair. "I had been led to believe
otherwise.  A misunderstanding, I trust?"
	"A tragic one, alas," Palpatine told the aide as much as
her. "I hope it is a happier cause which brings you here," he said
truthfully.
	"Perhaps. You may have mixed feelings to hear that my son's
consort has stepped down from the Senate."
	"I may indeed. I trust she is well?"
	"Yes, and no," Danah said thoughtfully. She looked up at the
young Coruscanti hovering by them. "Please don't let me keep you from
your duties."
	As the aide fled, she continued, "I shall occupy the Alderaani
seat until Bail returns. A fete will be held for Castra's resignation
tomorrow evening. We would be honoured if you could attend."
	"Your Highness, I fear you mock me," he said. How much did she
know? "Her disgraceful behavior toward me has passed all bounds of
propriety."
	"If your schedule permits your attendance, we should be
delighted. As for amending her transgressions, we shall broach that
subject anon. As your schedule permits, of course." She rose and
inclined her head, not quite curtseying. "You have a strong
resemblance to your father."
	"You flatter me," Palpatine said, his mouth tense. "It will be
a pleasure to see you again in the Senate this afternoon, Your
Highness."

*  *  *

	Anakin was doing his best to pace within the cell's narrow
confines when the Nechti guards returned. He took up Kenobi's former
posture across the doorway.
	"Your general asked us to bring this to you," one guard said,
displaying a small sack. She hooked it over the end of her plasma
rifle and dangled the package in front of Anakin's chest as she
unkeyed the cell barrier. He gingerly reached for it, expecting
ionized death, but she allowed him to take the sack.
	The reclosing barrier singed the sack's fabric as he snatched
it back within the cell. The Nechti laughed amongst themselves as they
left, and he regarded the sack with deep suspicion. "I hope it's not
Kenobi's head."
	Arcadia had returned to tending Rannis with Nisca, and did not
look up at Anakin's words. "It's not," she said quietly. "I'd know if
he were dead.  What did they bring?"
	"Nechti rations, I think," Anakin said, shaking a foil
pouch. He parcelled out the glossy tubes and packets, leaning against
the wall at Arcadia's side to consume his own portions.
	Slumped in the corner, Rannis tremblingly waved at a droid
which whirred about before beeping a reply. "One vidcam at the other
end of the hall," the engineer interpreted. "But no surveillance ports
in here. Improvised from a storage compartment and field generators,
I'd say."
	Arcadia glanced at the cell's control pad, but Anakin shook
his head.  "Maybe you could lower the barrier from here, but that
vidcam would raise the alarm. We wouldn't have a chance against them
with our blasters gone, and we don't know where they've taken Kenobi."
	Denis slipped forward from the back of the cell, pushing his
way through the other cadets' fluster and murmuring. The objects he
took from his pocket looked like his rations at first glance. "Would
these help?"
	Anakin leaned down and intercepted the two lightsabers,
ignoring Denis' other offering. He hefted the hilts, Arcadia's and
Kenobi's. "They might.  You could fight our way out of here, right?"
	"No. I could not."
	Her timbre set him aback, but only for a moment. "Why not?"
	Nisca answered for her, still crouched beside the gasping
Rannis. "The Healer's Oath forbids any deliberate injury, except when
necessary to aid a patient."
	"And this wouldn't aid us? What about when you stepped in for
Lisel?"
	She saw Rannis and Nisca flinch at the woman's name. "That was
purely defensive work. I will not do this, Anakin."
	He stepped close to her then, bending his face down to
hers. Softly, he murmured, "Your scruples are going to leave us penned
in here for the slaughter." From his close vantage, he could see the
pulsebeat just behind her ear, where he had kissed her last night. He
did so again.
	Denis and the others only saw Anakin whispering to her, and
thought he had persuaded her when her hand rose to grasp his
arm. Anakin may have thought so as well, but when he backed away, she
shook her head. "I will not do this," she repeated.
	He absently wrenched his arm away from Arcadia as he turned
toward Nisca.  "I suppose this means *you* won't help us either," he
said to him.
	Nisca smiled tightly. He said past him to Arcadia, "He learns
quickly, doesn't he?"
	Her face went very blank. "Yes, he does," she said.
	The same thought had occurred to Anakin, and he whirled back
on her. "You won't cut our escape for us, and neither will Nisca. Then
I will."
	She took a deep breath. "You have no training with the
lightsaber. You can't possibly launch an offensive with it by
yourself. Who's asking for his death now?"
	The reckless light in his eyes precluded any thought of
that. "Don't have much of a choice, do we? Once we secure the bridge,
we can be under startrails in no time." He surveyed his cadets. "Once
we deactivate the field, advance just like that last drill I put you
through, except for getting yourself shot, Rouvel. Damesta, Anset, get
your units in order."
	He looked down to see Arcadia taking Kenobi's lightsaber from
his hands, leaving him with her own. "I knew you'd come 'round," he
grinned at her.
	She looked resigned, but not utterly so. "If you're determined
to do this, I'll employ defensive measures. But nothing more."
	His grin faltered a fraction. "So I'm still leading the
charge, am I?"
	"Thought you could completely bluff me into it?" Arcadia said
lightly.  Seeing a flicker of anger, and perhaps a little fear, she
reached out to him with more tenderness, tracing his wrist with her
fingertips, and the edges of his mind with hers. "You don't have to
rush into your death unprepared. There is another way."
	Before he could ask how, she fanned out her memories before
him. As he absorbed them in a rush, he *experienced* her lightsaber
training, from the first stumbling days of singed hands, through
sessions of attack stratagems she had later forsworn, until the time
she was presented with the saber Anakin now held, one which Kenobi had
made for her. Anakin blinked away the flood of images, Kenobi's face
in memory overlapping Arcadia's before him, and flexed his shoulders,
sensing the proper stance fall over him like a cloak.
	She glanced behind him, at the cadets falling silent in
anticipation of the sortie. "It'll only persist in your mind for a few
hours. Will that do?" she asked him.
	"It will have to, won't it?" The recklessness had returned to
him with new fire, as bright as the blade springing up from his
hands. She lowered her lids, and the cell barrier evaporated as the
watching vidcam spattered into sparks. By the time she looked back up,
Anakin was halfway down the corridor. "Nisca, drape Rannis over that
droid, and try to stay in the middle of the group. Now let's get the
hell out of here."

*  *  *

	"You must understand what this means for both our people and
yours," Captain Brabanconne said. "If you have a reliable source for
these crystals, you must tell us."
	Kenobi gazed calmly back. "Must I?"
	At Brabanconne's side, Doctor Meda inspected an array of fine
tools. "Oh, I really think you must." He held up a curiously whorled
blade. "Most of these instruments are probably unfamiliar to you. If I
were you, I'd want to keep them that way."
	They were seated in a medical bay of _La Belle Dame_. Now that
Kenobi knew of the ships' capture, battle damage to the _Sphinx_ had
been obvious when he was escorted from the cell on the Leucothean
craft. The _Dovecote_ bore similar scars, but he was perplexed that of
the three vessels, the _Belle_, the former Alderaani flagship, seemed
scarcely bruised.  Brabanconne saw him inspecting the walls from his
pinioned chair and said, "If you're looking for the lens, it's several
decks away."
	"Near the ion-drive chambers? You're using this ship?" Kenobi
asked her.
	"It's in the best condition. And perhaps it might buy us more
time. You cleared it to enter Ikatya, after all."
	"So I did." He examined his binders as if lost in thought,
then shrugged.  Freeing himself unarmed would mean only a quick death:
perhaps something to be sought in a few hours' time, but not yet, nor
alone. "How many crystals do you need?"
	"As many as you can provide." Meda casually gestured with his
scalpel, and Brabanconne eyed him sharply.
	"Bevan, please," she said. "Just finish that patch for
Danville's aide."  Meda industriously bent to work, his hair gleaming
red above the red flesh pinned before him.
	Brabanconne turned back to Kenobi. "In theory, we may only
need a few from you. Antilles had an enormous number of them in her
quarters: sixty stones spliced into a cable. They weren't aligned for
a teleportation or weapons coil; I don't suppose you can tell me what
the cable's function was?"
	"Its function?" Kenobi's pale eyes darkened. "It didn't
accomplish what I intended when I made it. How can I say what it was
good for?"
	"You made that many crystals?" Brabanconne gave each word its
own emphasis. "What materials do you need? How long does the process
take?"
	He seemed to face a distant vision, not the Nechti captain at
all. "That chain took me one year and my heart's blood. All of it was
wasted."
	"If you can make one crystal every few days, you must be using
more common elements," Brabanconne said. "And yet their optical
resonance is nearly identical to the stones we have already."
	Kenobi snapped back to the present. "Can I examine your
scanning equipment? If I'm to make these stones, I'll need to check
the matrix continuities."
	Captain Brabanconne nodded, satisfied. "I knew you would see
reason.  We'll bring you to Commander Danville. She can supply you
with whatever materials you need." She looked at the chrono on the
wall and amended, "Or rather, Doctor Meda will take you to her. It's
nearing the rendezvous time, and I must return our ships to orbit
before I can join you."
	As Brabanconne left, Kenobi turned his attention back to Meda,
who was still at work. Eyeing the thin layer of flesh pinned to Meda's
tray, he asked, "Is that what's intended for me once your lens is
complete?"
	Meda made a few final adjustments before tucking the tray
under his arm and pulling Kenobi to his feet. "Oh no. Why should you
stop at one lens?  Admiral Jordan might want a few more ships before
we return home."

*  *  *
	
	The _Sphinx_ shuddered underfoot as a Nechti sentry tapped the
crystal in her throat. "Comm systems on this level are crashing, both
audio links and vidcams. Requesting permission to investigate."
	"You may not leave your post," the reply came. "It may be only
energy drain from the ongoing launch. If the problems persist after
we've achieved orbit, you may be given further latitude."
	The Nechti's grudging assent was cut off by a lightsaber
hurled through her throat, burning the crystal away with her life. As
Anakin retrieved his saber, he took the sidearm from her belt. He
beckoned the others into the turbolift alcove. "Anyone else still need
a blaster? The bridge should be three levels straight above us."
	Rannis' support droid communed with a data socket; the
engineer watched the display panel with feverish eyes. "It's a small
turbolift. We'll need two trips," he said.
	"Even better," Anakin said. "Seal off the bridge except for
this shaft.  Some of us can secure it while the rest of you wait
here."
	"I'll just short the shipwide comm backbone while we're here,"
Rannis muttered, nearly to himself. "And the Nechti transmitters are
on a different frequency than ours-- I'll see what I can do about
those."
	Troubled, Arcadia checked the metabolizer on his arm. Over her
shoulder, she said to Anakin, "They're launching the _Sphinx_. What if
General Kenobi is no longer on this ship?"
	Anakin had already stepped into the turbolift with most of the
cadets, blasters in hand. He clipped her lightsaber to his belt,
setting it aside for the more familiar weapon. "We'll worry about that
later. Colton, come on."
	Denis examined the last item from his pocket. "I'd like to
wait here, sir."
	The turbolift slammed shut and shot upward. Arcadia looked
questioningly at her brother, who showed her the datapad in his
hand. Still coupled from afar to the comlink in Kenobi's pocket, it
bore a rolling transcript of his conversation with the Nechti.  

*  *  *

	His binders in Meda's grip, Kenobi watched Danville and her
aide anneal the new facets into the lens. Captain Brabanconne closed
her eyes against the whirling refractions as she entered the ion-drive
chamber. "Is the lens complete? I'd like a demonstration for Admiral
Jordan when she arrives."
	"We're still a few crystals short," Danville said. "If you
really want a demonstration, we can borrow a few from the
teleportation coil. You can make up the difference in a few days,
can't you?"
	Kenobi nodded, his expression curiously serene.
	"Very well," Brabanconne said. "I see Malison's patch is
done. Commander Danville, before you disassemble the coil, send your
aide over to the _Sphinx_. Their comm systems were breaking down and
seem to've failed altogether. Maybe he can straighten things out."

*  *  *

	On the bridge of the _Sphinx_, the last Nechti officer raised
her hand a second too late. Her features crumbled into ash as her dead
fingers touched them. Three seconds later, the intact crystal in her
throat detonated, leaving a smoldering crater in the wall where her
upper body had been.
	Another flare of light burst from the far corner. Anakin
ferally grinned, anticipating renewed combat, but relaxed as he
recognized the newcomer.  "Votary!" Anakin called over the din,
lowering his blaster and nudging a cadet toward the turbolift.
	"You! How did you--" Malison's face was obscured by a shower
of sparks as the aide limped through the debris, wiping a trickle of
blood away from her cheek. "Where are you going?"
	"Out." He idly twirled his blaster. "Do you know where General
Kenobi is?  The man they took from our cell?"
	"They're still questioning him." Her voice was lower than
before, and one hand went to the silent crystal in her throat. "Where
are the others? You didn't leave them there, did you?"
	The turbolift returned, disgorging the other escapees. Rannis
immediately stumbled toward the drive controls, escorted by the two
healers. Denis joined the Leucotheans, ignoring Anakin's contemptuous
look. "Can't you port him over from the _Belle_?"
	Malison averted her face from Denis. Her attention seemed
fixed on Rannis, all but buried under a cascade of control cables;
Arcadia knelt beside him while Nisca reprogrammed a crashed medical
droid. "This ship isn't going anywhere. It wasn't much better than a
cruiser-sized escape pod from that planet we seized it from. And
besides, he doesn't have a transport key."
	"The teleportation coil in the corner is still intact," Denis
pointed. "The captain's key must be coded into the system. If you pull
in a ten-meter radius around her, we're sure to get General Kenobi as
well."
	"Holding the captain hostage won't buy you anything but time."
	In an undertone, Anakin said, "Denis, don't press
her. Votary's been through enough already."
	"You're right." Denis began to turn away, but suddenly seized
her throat.  As Anakin moved to defend her, Denis shoved hard with his
datapad. Caught by the edge, Malison's face slid off in a bloody,
crumpled shroud.
	Denis repeated to the not-Malison, "Bring your captain and
General Kenobi onto our ship."
	Anakin took the unmasked Nechti agent from Denis' grasp. The
eyes were still eerily human in their frame of stripped flesh. Hilt
pressed firmly into his captive's wrist, he reactivated Arcadia's
lightsaber. The blade sprang out like a striking snake, incongruously
soft blue light welling up through the reek of burnt bone. As the
agonized scream rang out, Arcadia and Nisca sprang up from Rannis'
side. Frantically, the captive appealed to the healers. "Lady Arcadia!
Help me!"
	Arcadia swallowed hard, glancing at its erstwhile disguise and
back at the masquerader's ruined features and the brown hair above
them. Where Malison's had been kissed by flame, this shone in randomly
gilded streaks.  "Justin, Lord Semble."
	Anakin said coolly to Semble, "I am holding you firmly enough
to support your weight, but not enough to fully restrain you. If you
make any sudden moves, the blade will likely burn off your hand, and
whatever other parts you place in my way. Now, would you care to fetch
General Kenobi for us?"  The pair moved gingerly toward the
teleportation coil.
	Rannis crawled out from the hyperdrive console, his blast
helmet a tapestry of scorch marks. Denis tapped his sister's
arm. "Dia, snap out of it," he said in an undertone. "Rannis isn't
going to make it, is he?"
	She knelt down again, easing the blast shield back from
Rannis' face.  "We've pushed his nerves too far. There's nothing more
I can do for him."
	Rannis himself answered her, straining for breath. "Just give
me a little more time. Malison--" his eyes flicked to Semble in the
corner, reluctantly shifting levers. "Malison must have kept them
ignorant of the hyperdrive. It's still functional, but the control
couplers are inverted."
	Denis donned the blast shield and burrowed under the console,
whistling Rannis' droid to his side. "Reversion's going to take more
power-- maybe I can reroute some from the other systems." As an
afterthought, he ducked his head back out. "Even if Semble does fetch
General Kenobi, he'll probably port himself back to the _Belle_."
	Arcadia closed her eyes, trying to ease Rannis' pain, but the
engineer struggled to speak. "Don't let me die like this. No
reason. No meaning..."
	Nisca appeared at her elbow. "I've got the medical droid
working again, but without osmotic filters, we can't--"
	Rannis sat up in a last surge of strength. Beyond them, the
teleportation coil was just beginning to spin. "Not like this," he
said clearly. "Send me back to Lisel. Help me up."
	Arcadia bowed her head in understanding. She folded her hand
over his; when she withdrew it, the Nechti crystal she had taken from
Denis was a fading rose inlaid into Rannis' skin. Ghostly whispers
curled out from the crystal as Denis' repairs progressed, drawing
energy away from the field that was jamming the Nechti comm
signals. With Nisca's help, she half-dragged the engineer to Anakin
and Semble, who were too intent on the coil to notice them.
	As Denis had predicted, Captain Brabanconne materialized with
Kenobi in her periphery, as well as Doctor Meda. The cadets swarmed
around the newly-arrived Nechti officers. Anakin turned to watch the
prisoners, and Semble tore out of his grasp. Pressing one last lever
with his remaining hand, he bore out Denis' further prediction by
darting into the teleportation coil himself. Nisca pushed the
faltering Rannis in beside Semble. The coil's glow erased them both.
	A low rumble and burst of static came from Brabanconne's and
Meda's crystals. Anakin peered out the bridge port at the _Belle_, and
saw smoke and a reddish glow inside the other ship as it began to turn
toward them.  Evidently bemused, and just as evidently not intending
to admit it, he said, "Well, that's that. Denis, what are you doing
down there?"
	Denis emerged and began, "Rannis said--" before realizing
Rannis had vanished, and Kenobi and the two Nechti officers had taken
his place.  "General Kenobi, sir?"
	Anakin cut him off. "Can that hyperdrive be salvaged or not?"
	"I restored the polarities," Denis said. "All we need to do is
set a course."
	Kenobi stepped forward. "There's a starbase at Galliae. We can
gather reinforcements there and send a delegation to the
Senate. Commander Skywalker, how do matters stand with your squadron?"
	"Sir," Anakin said through gritted teeth, "This is hardly the
time for a formal report, is it?"
	Kenobi folded his arms. "Is it any better a time for
insubordination?  Cadet Colton, arm all shields-- the _Belle_ has
heavy turbolasers. And set coordinates for Galliae."
 	Denis conveyed an excellent mixture of diligence and
invisibility as Anakin glowered down at Kenobi. Before further
escalation occurred, Arcadia stepped between the two men. Without
looking at either of them, she said, "Crescent Squadron began with
thirty-five cadets, of whom we still have eighteen. We also have four
other personnel and one each of medical and technical systems droids."
	Kenobi nodded. "Thank you. That wasn't difficult, was it?"
	Captain Brabanconne spoke up, directly addressing
Kenobi. "Thanks to your stones, our drive lens is now complete. The
_Belle_ will follow you, and bring the _Rahab_ after it to destroy
whatever harbor you find."
	The bridge reeled as the _Sphinx_'s tattered shields were
breached.  "Coordinates set, sir," Denis reported to Kenobi.
	"Punch it!" Anakin barked, then looked at Arcadia and
Kenobi. "What stones? Your necklace?"
	It was Denis who answered him. "Our mother's necklace. The
crystal matrices were unstable to sustained coherent energy. Nice
jewelry, but too flawed for anything useful."
	Brabanconne looked up in horror. "Flawed?"
	The _Sphinx_ shot into hyperspace. Framed by streaked petals
of stars in the rear viewscreen, the traitor _Belle_ kept pace with
them for less than a minute before blooming into flame. The shouts of
panic, made tinny from their transit through Brabanconne's crystal,
fused into a single bright sound before evaporating in the void.