Heritage/Chapter 1

The very character of beauty is simplicity, the unadulterated creations of the Force that pulse with a living energy. The untouched, unchanged natural wonders are what make sentients across the galaxy stop and gawk in awe. It was amazing, Leia Organa Solo thought, how something as elementary as a cloud could inspire such a response. But bathed in the carmine glow of Bespin's planetary mass, Cloud City was heavenly at the most modest of levels. It had been years since her last visit, the fateful trip that had resulted in the temporary loss of her dearest Han, Luke's hand, and in many ways what innocence they all had had left.

So much had changed since then, but the paradisaic beauty of the colony had not. In her opinion, appearances were often misleading. Leia was not a woman to be easily intimidated, but for years after the incident at Cloud City she had had nightmares of the place. Yet she was no longer a fledgling leader of the Rebellion, running from a monster who turned out to be none other than her own father. She had lived and led, raised three children and governed a galaxy, and it was far past time to leave such infantile fears in the past.

That's what she told herself, at least, as she watched the wisps of condensed moisture fly past the shuttle's passenger viewport. In truth, if Borsk Fey'lya hadn't asked her personally in front of the entire Presidential Cabinet to attend the ceremony in honor of the reopening of the mining facility...she probably would have never come back. Some ghosts of the past needed left to their rest, and frankly she wasn't sure disturbing them was one of the wisest decisions she could make. But in the end her sense of duty always won out. Even if she was no longer officially tied to the New Republic, they often called on her. And more times than not she agreed.

In an attempt to banish whatever reservations she may have, Leia tried one of the Jedi relaxation techniques Luke had taught her. Or, tried to teach her. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she shared genes with the famed Jedi Master. No matter how hard she tried, it often seemed that the Force had given up and relinquished the claim on her that it had on the rest of the Skywalker bloodline. To imagine that she could have the same ingrained connection to the Force that Luke had was almost laughable. Still, the skills she had managed to master proved useful, such as then.

Clearing her mind of questions and doubts, Leia tapped gently into the rivers of pure energy, felt the invigorating rush of calm and peace it offered. She smiled, eyes closed, bathing in the light.

And then, she felt something new, something...different. Not dark, not like the smothering, sick feeling that accompanied darksiders she had met. But certainly not light, either. Frowning, Leia fought against the currents and ripples and eddies. She was unused to delving so deep, and the effort was tiring.

Abruptly she gasped, eyes flew open, stark and wild. Banging frantically on the panel that separated her from the pilot's lounge, “Port! Break po—”

What felt like an enormous hammer reached out and slammed against the side of the shuttle, tossing the small ship like a pebble end over end in an uncontrolled spin. Leia clutched at her crash webbing that threatened to snap at any minute as she was flung this way and that. Through it all she struggled to keep her connection to the Force, to the unnameable thing just outside her range of knowledge.

Without warning the shuttle came to a bone-jarring stop, tossing her forward so hard and fast that she banged her head on the metal panel leading to the cockpit, slicing open her flesh and pouring blood into her eyes. Choking on the bile from her rebellious stomach, Leia called out weakly, “Captain? What's going on?”

No answer.

Instead, the shuttle began to move. Not the normal, engine driven movement that would signal the pilot's compliance, but a lateral movement. Leia swiped back the loose strands of her hair and the blood from her eyes, then unbuckled herself with trembling hands. She fumbled through her small carry-on bag for the one thing that she could now rely on. Her eyes fluttered closed with relief as her fingers slid around the cold metal cylinder, the simple touch renewing her hope and strength. Clutching the lightsaber to her breast and discarding everything else, Leia stood carefully, trying not to stumble under the movement of the shuttle. It had to be a tractor beam, she thought. But tractor beams were only standard on war vessels. Biting her lower lip, Leia cast aside the thought. Instead she pressed the business end of her lightsaber against the cockpit's door, then ignited it.

The snaphiss reverberated through the small cabin, the crimson glow mirroring the climate. Slowly she dragged the energy blade in a long oval, then kicked in the sheet she had cut. Inside the cockpit the pilot sat slumped in his chair, unconscious or dead, it didn't matter. What mattered was what she saw outside the viewport.

“Emperor's Black Bones,” she breathed, a tightness forming in her chest, a lump of despair in her throat. Outside was a fleet of warships, of a design and make Leia had never seen before. But that's not what horrified her. The exotic, resplendent city in the clouds was burning.

*                                     *                                         *

Like a serpent strike, quicker than the human eye and deadly as poison, the flashing lights attacked in a furious death dance, appearing frenzied even though each and every movement, no matter how subtle, was deliberate and vital, utterly controlled. Suddenly they parted, blue to one side, green to the other. The two Jedi Masters circled each other, each a duelist of the highest magnitude, testing their own strength and ability. Conning death.

Mara moved first, her saber striking a feint at her opponent's left flank. But the blow was meant to be blocked. The real attack came as she slid under his guard, sweeping her husband's ankles out from under him. At least, that's what should have happened. Luke Skywalker backflipped nimbly over her legs, landing on his hands and springing back another two meters before righting. But she was already there, a magnificient roundhouse kick snapping his head backwards even as he landed. Luke rolled with the movement, coming up onto one knee and forcing his mind outwards. The Force punch tossed her a good five meters through the air, and she skidded another three before coming to a stop.

Mara was quick on her feet, but as she started to reignite her lightsaber she realized with a start that it was no longer there. She looked up to see Luke smirking at her, her disengaged lightsaber in his right hand. “Damn it Skywalker, that's cheating!”

His eyebrows shot up in an amused way. “Cheating? It wasn't cheating two days ago when you pulled the same stunt.”

“Yeah well,” she grumbled, snapping her lightsaber back on her belt, “it's a lot sneakier when you do it. I wasn't expecting you to be that underhanded. You're so moral and upright, after all.”

Luke smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly. “Maybe Han's starting to rub off on me.”

“Force I hope not,” she grumbled, her arm sliding naturally around his waist as he led them out of the training facility on Coruscant.

Suddenly he stiffened under her grip, eyes taking the far off look they always did when he was having a vision or deep in meditation with the Force. Mara waited patiently for him to come out of it, knowing full well the dangers of interrupting him. And then as quickly as he had gone he was back, and the air crackled with his intense anxiety. “What did you see?” she demanded, trying not to sound harsh even though she could feel his distress like her own.

“Leia,” he gasped, clutching her hand. “She's hurt, and in danger.”

“Can we help her?”

He shook his head slowly, massaging his temples. “I don't know. But there's something else going on. Something...not quite right.”

Mara felt a hiss escape her lips. “The dark side?”

Luke looked confused, and she felt his power sweep over her as he searched the Force for answers. “Maybe,” he concluded finally. “It's malignant like the dark side, but not nearly as sinister. I've never felt anything quite like it.”

Mara squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “We'll just have to face it when it presents itself. But for now we need to call Han and see where Leia is, if she needs our help.”

“You're right,” he agreed. “Let's go.”

*                                      *                                       *

Jaina Solo looked at her lap, willing herself to be calm. Just because she was about to discover her very future was no reason to be nervous, was it?

She had to think positive. Gavin Darklighter was a family friend, after all. But she didn't want to be a Rogue that way. She wanted to earn it, by being the best. Which she very might well be. She had both Skywalker and Solo genes, after all. Flying was in her blood, she knew it every time her X-wing lifted off and she felt the rev of the sublight engines and the openness of space. To be a part of probably the most celebrated and talented squadron in recent history, founded by some the greatest pilots that had ever lived...that was a position to be proud of.

“Jaina?” a voice called from the inner office.

Jaina stood, squaring her shoulders and reminding herself that whatever happened, she would be proud of how she had done during that test simulation. She had lasted nearly twenty minutes, a time that came close to the record at twenty-five. “Sir?”

“Come in Jaina, I'm ready for you now.”

Jaina smiled slightly as she came in, then quietly took a seat in front of his desk. He continued to scribble something on a sheet of flimsi, and Jaina waited tensely, spine perfectly erect. Finally he looked up, stroked his goatee, and said, “Well Jaina, you finished third out of twenty-eight, excluding myself.”

Her breath left her in a rush, relief flowing over her gratefully. She could have cried. Could have. But she didn't.

“But I still have some concerns,” he continued. She stiffened again. “You're only sixteen, very young to be exposed to the sort of things Rogue Squadron has always done.”

“I'm a Jedi,” she told him. “We try to avoid it, but in the end danger and death is what we do.”

“I understand that,” he nodded. “But I have a hard time not thinking that we would all benefit by letting you wait another year. I don't want to be responsible for depriving you of what childhood you have left.”

Jaina felt her eyes narrow. “With all due respect, Sir, I am not a child. And I am fully capable of doing anything the rest of the recruits are, regardless of age. You should know that. I'm a Solo, after all.”

Finally Darklighter cracked a smile. “That's true.”

Jaina cocked an eyebrow deliberately. “And Sir, didn't Wedge admit you into Rogue Squadron when you were sixteen?”

He stared at her, thinking it over or just making her sweat, she wasn't sure. But she was going to fight for this. Something as stupid as age wasn't going to keep her from her dreams. Finally he sighed and said, “I hope I'm not making a mistake with you, Solo. But I'm going to give you a chance. Welcome to the Rogues.”

She grinned fully, taking his outstretched hand enthusiastically and resisting the urge to grovel with her gratitude. Instead she simply said, “Thank you, Sir. You won't regret it.”

“I hope you're right. When can you come in to pick up the gear?”

Jaina opened her mouth to answer, but was stopped as what felt like a knife slashed her forehead and searing pain and nausea attacked her from nowhere. Distantly she understood that it wasn't happening to her. “Mom!”

*                                     *                                       *

The house was in chaos when Luke and Mara arrived. As the turbolift door opened the first thing his senses picked up on was the noise, footsteps trampling the stairs like a stampede and voices conversing from different ends and floors of the upscale apartment. “Han?” Luke called, already getting the sense that the Solo's knew something was amiss.

Han appeared at the top of the stairs, his blaster slung on one hip and clothes Luke hadn't seen since his smuggling days draping over his form. “Hey, kid, I guess you're here about Leia.”

Luke took a step forward. “Yes. I don't know what's happened, Han, but she's hurt. And afraid.”

The age lines around his old friend's eyes and mouth seemed to deepen, his skin turning a deeper shade of gray. “I know,” he said softly. “Jacen and Anakin felt it too.”

“What about Jaina?” Mara questioned after her apprentice.

Han shrugged. “Haven't seen her. She's at the military base taking her simulator test to get into the Rogues.”

“Han, where was Leia at?” Luke pressed.

A muscle in the older man's cheek twitched. “Old Borsk made her go to Cloud City for the reopening of the mine.”

Luke blinked. He shouldn't have been surprised. Bespin had brought nothing but trouble to their family. The fact that ill fate had befallen Leia there wasn't astonishing, really. “We'll never get there in time to make a difference,” Mara said suddenly.

Luke, as painful as it was, had to agree. “She's probably right, Han. Bespin is on the other side of the galaxy—”

“Dad!”

They turned to look as Jacen came skidding to a halt a few meters away. He waved at Luke and Mara belatedly, but spoke to Han. “It's all over the HoloNet! Bespin's been attacked. It's been completely destroyed, the whole thing is on fire.”

Han cursed violently, slamming a fist on the stair railing. Luke took another step forward. “She's alive, Han. None of us have felt her death. But it's unlikely that Leia's still on Bespin.”

“We could still go and check everything out,” another voice said. Anakin's voice. “Maybe there will be a clue as to where Mom is now.”

Han waggled a finger in his direction. “There ya go, Junior! Go on, finish packing. Chewie's already prepping the Falcon.” He looked towards the two Jedi Masters. “You two coming or not?”

Luke turned to his wife, silent acknowledgment passing between them. “Give us half and hour to pack and we'll rendezvous topside in the Sabre.”

*                                       *                                      *

The gentle, steady hum of activity on the bridge of the Dintellion was pleasing to Cale Wilos, reaffirming his knowledge that the crew was performing their duties efficiently and effectively. Of course, that could have easily been seen if he had looked out the viewport. The city belonging to his prey was listing to one side, the repulsorlifts keeping it afloat failing system at a time. The occasional space yacht or single-man fighter tried to escape the burning wreckage, and some made it, but mostly they were easily picked off by the variously dispersed fighters throughout his battle group. It was a satisfying victory, and one that had certainly been a long time coming.

The people in this sector had been hampering the Baci people in their gas mining for months, but now that had been put to an end. Venturing into this unexplored territory was dangerous to be sure, but Cale had faith that the Baci were more than strong enough to keep themselves safe and prosperous. That is, if the recent struggle had been any indication. There had been only one unexpected hitch in their plan: a wizard had been present.

The Baci themselves were as a whole users of the Channel, wizards of the unifying energy that connected all things living. It's what made them all but unbeatable in combat, guided them through the dark between stars and galaxies, protected them, even gave them some measure of prescience. It was an advantage no other peoples they had encountered had had before. But Cale, as well as the other wizards, had sensed someone touch the Channel, someone who was not one of them. They had sought her out, and even at that moment she was being brought to him.

It was a disturbing thought, that the Channel extended beyond his own reach. That perhaps it was greater than the Baci. They had determined centuries before that the Channel was passed on by blood, through the lineage of their ancestors. That is how they had become such a tight-knit people. They married within the Baci realm, between the nine dozen or so clans that made up their group. And so the Channel and its powers remained with them.

But now Cale wondered if they had not been wrong all along. If this person had tapped the Channel so easily, in such a fluent and effortless way, could that not also mean there were others she had learned this from? Cale knew she hadn't learned it from the Baci.

Footsteps sounded softly behind him, but there was no word spoken. They didn't need to. He could sense the nervous eagerness of his soldiers, their wary demeanor towards their captive. He also detected pain, a sign that she had not gone easily or of her own volition. And last but not least, he knew the power that lived within her. It was raw, mostly unrefined though not wholly so, but huge and burgeoning. Her connection was deep, her potential for power greater than even his own. Who was she?

He turned suddenly, taking in the sight with a critical and expert eye. She was definitely not Baci, even though the similarities far outweighed the dissimilar. Her eyes were a little closer together, her hair several shades lighter, and was decidedly shorter in stature. A bloody gash laid open the skin on her forehead, blood draining in rivulets down into her eyes, and several bruises could be seen on her arms. He supposed those had come with her resistance. Despite her disheveled and alien appearance, Cale found her nonetheless exquisitely ravishing. It was as if her strength in the Channel was a magnet he was being sucked ever closer to.

“Release her,” he commanded suddenly. The guards immediately let go, and she shrugged angrily out of their grip. Then she spoke gruffly in his direction, a long and flowing language that he hadn't studied nearly enough to understand.

“What's your name?” he demanded, hoping perhaps she knew his own tongue. She looked at him in confusion, her bloody brow furrowing. She spoke again, all of it still nothing but gibberish to him.

Cale turned to his second in command on the Dintellion. “Do we have any records on this speech pattern?”

“A few, Lord Wilos. Would you like me to pull them for you?”

“Do so.” He waited impatiently for the records to download, then skimmed them quickly, every word immediately and effortlessly committed to memory.

He turned back to the woman and said in her tongue, “What is your name?”

She jumped in surprise and recognition, brown eyes flashing dangerously. “Who are you, and why have you brought me here? Why have you attacked my people?” she returned tartly, blatantly unafraid of him. Even more intriguing.

“I am afraid you are in no position to make demands at this point. State your name or be destroyed,” he returned, testing her fortitude. Her only response was to raise her chin ever so slightly. Cale smiled inwardly, and instead of speaking again reached out and delved into the far corners of her mind. She recoiled from his intrusive and intimate touch, but Cale was much practiced in such areas, and she was blissfully unaware of her own potential, unable to shut him out. He absorbed her memories, reading the history of her life like an open book. The whole while she struggled, pushing him out and away, but he managed to hold on long enough to know most of the inner workings of her mind and soul.

“Leia Organa Solo,” he said aloud when he was done, tasting the foreign words on his tongue. “It seems you are of great importance to your people. I will acquire a liberal ransom for your release.”

Her expression was drawn, the skin of her face taught with pain and nausea from her struggle. But the fire had not left her eyes. “Who the hell are you people?” she gasped.

“We are the Baci wizards,” he stated proudly. “And you will be living among us until I determine how best to gather the information from you I need.”

Leia looked sick but defiant. “I can't help you. I've been out of the political loop for over two years.”

“No,” he replied darkly. There were things in her mind that disturbed Cale greatly, but more than anything was her knowledge of other wizards, men and women and aliens who called themselves Jedi. How could such a cult exist? It was impossible. “I need your views on the Jedi.”

Her mouth opened in protest, but Cale cut her off with a flick of his hand. “Take her to the Restricter.”

*                                    *                                   *

The stench of sweat and grease was the most attractive feature of the Corellian light freighter, but Jaina was more than used to such conditions. The Millennium Falcon was rarely in a better state, and sometimes she thought that it flew best when on the brink of falling apart. At the moment though there was no clinking of tools, no swearing and yelps as a result of some minor but painful accident. She could see her father's anxious face in the round offset cockpit, Chewbacca manning the copilot's seat, already flipping the preflight switches.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to lower her run into a trot. With every beat of her heart she could feel her mother's pain and fear. It had escalated about two minutes before, and Jaina had the awful impression that something horrible had happened. Whatever it was, it couldn't wait. Leia needed her, and that was all there was.

It seemed the rest of her family had the same idea.

Jaina had just reached the top of the ramp when she ran headlong into her twin. “Jacen,” she gasped, taking tight hold of his forearm.

He nodded, understanding without words. That's just how it was between them. “I know. We were waiting on you before we left.”

She leaned into his embrace, knowing that no matter what else, she could rely on him. They separated soon though, Jaina heading to the cockpit and Jacen back to the hold to strap in. Han had just received clearance when she got there. “Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered, not even looking back. Chewbacca turned briefly, howling in greeting. “You better strap in.”

Jaina took a seat in the passenger couch behind her father and fastened her crash webbing. “Dad,” she began, “what happened?”

“We don't know much yet, Jaina,” Han told her, distracted. “Just that Bespin's been destroyed and your mother was there when it happened.”

Jaina chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Are Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara coming?”

“Yeah, they're going to meet us topside in the Jade Sabre.”

She nodded. “I thought so. That's good. We might need to split up once we get there.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “Already thought of that. I have your X-wing packed away in the cargo hold.” He turned suddenly to look at her. “I almost forgot. What did Gavin say?”

Jaina smiled broadly, despite the nervousness still churning in her gut. “I'm in.”

He grinned lopsidedly, clapping her knee in excitement. “Congratulations, Jaina! I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she continued to smile. Chewbacca barked his own agreement, waving a hairy paw enthusiastically. “Thanks, Chewie.”

Han turned back to his controls, feathering the stick and lifting off from the small hangar. “Yeah. Well, we can celebrate when we get your mother back.”

Jaina had to agree. There was no point in celebrating anything when Leia's life could be in peril. She had to think positive, but Jaina had the unsettling feeling that they wouldn't find her at Bespin. Whoever had her mother was long gone, and she could only hope they had left enough of a trail behind to follow.