Within the outer lobby of the Foruma, pandemonium reigned. Everyone from the custodial staff to the Lawyteret Presidia herself was jockeying for position, hoping to glimpse the Eldarch for themselves as she walked with stately purpose toward the main assembly hall. With Bellinega temporarily safe, the disguised Skywalkers, accompanied by Fua and Iper, entered as well and were soon consumed by the crowd. Laera and Silas were forced to find a more creative entrance, eventually emerging in the basement where the complex's main power supply was kept. The boots of their armor were wet from having sloshed through ankle-deep water, and they had to tread carefully lest their steps produce a squeaking noise on the permacrete floor. Stealthily they made their way to the main floor, managing to avoid detection by hiding behind floor-length tapestries and factoring in what the crowd was really paying attention to.
Liveried and armored guards had to use the Force to be heard over the tumult of shouts and roars of appreciation as they tried desperately to control the sudden and inevitable influx of Sa'ari citizens. Finally Bellinega made it to the inner doors; upon reaching them, she used her own strength to levitate herself several meters above the floor and gestured for calm. If her secret guard detail hadn't seen it for themselves, they would never have believed how quickly this affected the throng. Within a quarter minute all was silence.
“I implore you all to maintain calm as I address the delegates of the Lawyteret,” she called emphatically in her own language, which Laera translated over the comm-net. “If you would kindly remain here, this can all be sorted out quickly and with little fuss.”
As though they were well-drilled troops on parade, the mass of Sa'ari stepped back several paces at the same instant, forming a corridor between the outer and inner doors, giving the latter portal a wide berth.
“Thank you,” Bellinega said simply, before slipping into the assembly hall.
As she did so, several large viewscreens scattered throughout the lobby switched on. They displayed the area beyond from several different angles, each covering approximately one-fifth of the entire floor as they focused on the dais at the far side of the vast circular room. The Eldarch could be seen from multiple angles striding toward it, followed closely by the Presidia and Vice-Presidia. The two politicians flanked her as she reached the platform and looked out upon the delegates who were, even then, emerging from several secured rooms to take their appropriated places.
“Citizens of T'lessia, I am here,” she began, her voice again in the oddly serene, well-modulated tone with which she had assented to this plan. Inwardly, Luke thought he recognized it as a certain glad-hearted acceptance of the inevitable: as though the Eldarch knew something the rest of the world did not, but still desired to impart this last, crucial message before...something...happened. These simple words were greeted with a standing ovation from the two hundred and twelve delegates, who had hastily affixed translator devices to their ears, but it was cut short as Bellinega again beckoned for calm. The words she had said were repeated in the Sa'ari language in a scrolling display at the bottom of each lobby viewscreen.
“I speak to you in the language of the Starborne Ones to show that they are honorable ambassadors, not monstrous criminals. The message broadcast last night was a fabrication, constructed by those who would seek to plunge us into an age ruled by the blackness, where all is cold and fearful, where none can think or feel as they choose. We have held sacred for many untold centuries the freedom of our minds, the right to keep ourselves to ourselves and yet express our thoughts as we see fit. Such is the nature of the blackness that it, through fear, would control our minds and hearts and turn us into mockeries of all we hold dear.
“The Starborne Ones saw to my safe passage here today, but not because it suits their purposes. They do so because they care so much for the well-being of our people that they risk not only their lives, but their ideals as well. They have done this so that I may demonstrate that one cannot prove false what is true, and the truth is that they do not wish us to do anything that we would not wish for ourselves. They have not hesitated to sacrifice everything for us, but they have never asked us to sacrifice anything for them.
“If the honored delegates gathered today would hear my pleas, I implore them to see that we serve no one by staying isolated on T'lessia, or by expanding to the stars with conquest in our hearts. I have no ceremony to offer you, only humble sincerity, and supreme confidence that this body will do what is right by our people. May the Blue—”
There was a sudden explosion in the ceiling of the main hall, and the viewscreens were momentarily obscured by billowing clouds of dust and debris. Delegates could be seen rushing from the vicinity, scrambling once again for the secured offices that lined the chamber walls. As the scene cleared, several black strands of cabling could be observed falling through a jagged, ten-meter hole, black-armored troopers descending from them in waves to land in a circle on the floor. The crowd in the lobby began gasping and screaming in terror, many of the guards began to usher them from the premises as the rest prepared to storm the intruders' position with guns drawn. Several officers were screaming into their sat-phones, calling for reinforcements or situation reports.
It was at this point that the detail broke its cover and rushed the room, Iper and Fua pushing guards aside as Luke, Ben, and Laera ignited their lightsabers and charged headlong through the doors.
“Stay back, we'll handle this!” Silas yelled as he too revealed himself, drawing his pair of blasters and laying down covering fire. The lighters stayed behind and began shouting explanations and instructions in their own language to the guards and civilians that remained in the lobby.
Inside the delegate hall the three Jedi were dodging and deflecting gunfire as they approached the platoon of anonymous invaders, who seemed singularly disinclined to get within melee distance or to expose much of their bodies. Bellinega seemed to have disappeared, neither Luke, Laera nor Ben could see or feel her presence. HK-47 was nowhere to be found, but no one had time to ask him for a status report. The Bothan, however, was crouch-walking his way through the rubble, attempting to flank the troopers' position.
As he broke cover to shoot at a cluster of them, however, another armored figure descended to the wreckage-strewn floor, but she did not require the use of a rappelling cable to do so. “Here you all are,” she bellowed triumphantly as she alighted on a fallen slab of ceiling stone, in full view of all. “Excellent, this will make things so much easier.”
As if acting on unspoken orders, the troopers under the command of Pelenora T'Yelc ceased fire and formed ranks between her and the Jedi. Ben had begun to crouch into a Force-leap to close the distance, however Laera caught hold of his robe in time to stop the younger Skywalker. “No, we have to stay here.”
“What in space are you—?” Ben snarled, but he fell silent at a gesture from his father.
“I can't explain why, but there's got to be a reason for this,” Laera said, awestruck and horrified at the same time. “If we interfere now, we die.”
“You should listen to her, men!” Pelenora spat, making the word into a curse. Then she began to yell at the top of her voice, a warbling screech that sounded like claws on transparisteel accompanied by a badly-tuned, ineptly played brass instrument.
“Oh, that's not good,” Laera hissed to the others. “She's issuing a direct challenge to Bellinega, the Challenge of Blackness!”
“She's doing what?” Silas asked emphatically, having retreated back to the line of Jedi without incident.
“The Challenge of Blackness,” Laera repeated. “It's an ancient rite, dating back long before the Sa'ari were given the prophecy and the knowledge of Basic. Bellinega has no choice now but to face Pelenora in single com—”
Her last word was cut off by a tremendous roar; from out of nowhere, the Eldarch had flung herself at the Youngarch, seizing her about the waist and literally throwing her to the floor as she soared into a high, tight spiral. T'Yelc was only just able to overcome the shock of the surprise counterattack in time to mitigate the force of her landing, rolling away from the remains of the desk she had landed on and getting to her feet before leaping into the air in hot pursuit.
“They...they can fly?” Ben gasped, his face white with astonishment.
Before anyone could say anything to this development, the whirling blur that was Bellinega again made contact with her adversary. Punches and kicks were lashed out with wild abandon, most missing as the two combatants weaved and darted through the air. Finally, Pelenora connected with a shot to the Eldarch's upper body that sent her flying through the beam of sunlight cast through the hole in the ceiling and toward the line of Jedi, but the elder Sa'ari rebounded from the wall behind them and retaliated with a kick of her own that smashed into T'Yelc's abdomen.
“Are you seeing this?” Silas asked in an awed whisper. “I'm barely following them...”
The two fighters ramped up the intensity of their airborne struggle, repeatedly smashing against one another like a pair of rabid gundarks. Over and over they rained blows upon one another; the Force within the huge chamber was positively sizzling with energy, causing the air to ripple as though the entire room were bathed in a heat haze and making Silas's fur stand on end. The Youngarch's aura blazed with hatred, while the Eldarch was supremely calm even as she pummeled her opponent with a series of jabs to the face and shoulders. A followup cross-kick from Bellinega missed wide to Pelenora's left, and she took the opportunity to shove her onetime mentor away with a telekinetic punch. As the two backed off, the armor plating of T'Yelc's suit crumbled and fell away, while the Eldarch shed her outer cloak and let it fall gently to the floor.
The two exchanged words in the Sa'ari language, first Pelenora and then Bellinega.
“You've got more spark than I gave you credit for,” Laera translated. “Only for you, my child, and only for this occasion.”
The two floated ten meters in the air, on opposite ends of the chamber, staring at one another. Silas glanced from one to the other, then raked his eyes over the line of black-clad Sa'ari troopers who stood vigil in the center of the room.
“I guess that was just round one,” Ben said numbly.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Silas acknowledged glumly.
A split-second later, Eldarch and Youngarch were a blur of motion as they flew about the room in an ellipse, looking for openings, probing for weaknesses. Four or five times they circled the chamber, before finally T'Yelc crossed the middle distance and smashed an elbow into Bellinega's ribcage. Something seemed to break inside her, however; she began to float haltingly back to the floor, her attacker eagerly resuming the assault. Ben Skywalker once again felt the urge to break from cover, but before anyone could stop him the Eldarch proved just how resilient she truly was. Vaulting her attacker's followup strike, she planted both feet into the small of the black-clad Sa'ari's back, using the momentum to propel herself once again into the air.
When her hands began to glow as she floated up toward the ceiling, all four spectators rose from their cover, blasters and inert lightsabers held limply in their hands, transfixed by the prospect of what might happen next. Pelenora, meanwhile, disentangled herself from the pile of wrecked furniture she had been smashed into, her eyes glowing crimson with fury. She didn't bother rising to meet her opponent, instead she stared insolently up at the Eldarch, daring her to come back down. Bellinega shook her head, however, and uttered a reply in her own language.
“I will not lower myself to your level,” Laera translated. “You must rise up to meet me on my own terms if you wish to take my place.”
“What does she mean?” Luke asked pointedly.
“It's the Challenge of Blackness,” Laera replied. “I didn't get the chance to finish explaining before, but basically its purpose is to be a last resort in times when the Eldarch seems to have embraced the dark side and threatens to take the Order with her. Bellinega is trying to remind Pelenora of this.”
“By saying that she must abandon the blackness if she ever hopes to win?”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
The four of them looked on in quiet fascination as the two powerful Sa'ari continued to stare into one another's eyes. As the silence dragged on, Bellinega's hands became steadily brighter, emitting an ethereal bluish glow.
“By all of Alderaan's ghosts!” Luke swore as, without warning, the Youngarch dropped into a crouch and thrust her arms skyward, her open palms pointed straight at the floating Eldarch. A beam of red light resembling a turbolaser blast shot toward Bellinega, catching her squarely in the heart and blasting her into the ceiling. She impacted with a sickening crunch, then fell to the ground in a heap, apparently unconscious.
Before Silas or the Jedi could do anything to help the Eldarch, the line of troopers in the center of the chamber raised their rifles, keeping them at bay. Getting back to her feet, Pelenora threw filthy looks at Luke, Laera, Ben and Silas in turn before striding haughtily toward the downed Bellinega, looks that promised a quick and painful death in the immediate future if she had her way.
As she reached the limp form of Bellinega, however, time seemed to dilate. As though some kind of bond had formed between them during their meditations so many months previously, Laera knew what the Eldarch was about to do. Acting on pure instinct, she pushed the others down and behind cover as, to the Youngarch's everlasting astonishment, Bellinega's glowing hands reached up and seized her face in a vise grip. A bloodcurdling scream rent the air as she attempted to break free, but the thrashing of her body only served to bring the Eldarch back to her feet. Pelenora's screaming reached a fever pitch, pounding against the ears of the spectators even as they pressed their hands against them. The troopers cast their rifles aside and, clawing at their helmets as though to keep the noise at bay, fell to the floor writhing in unbearable agony.
As the Youngarch's continued shrieking reached its crescendo, a blast like a thermal detonator shook the entire complex. Debris was sent flying through the air, rebounding off of walls, ceiling and floor at lethal velocities, as a veritable firestorm engulfed the center of the vast chamber. For endless moments it raged, consuming Pelenora and her attack force in a whirl of purest blue light that would have blinded the four aliens had they not been in cover, eyes squeezed shut against the heat and dust-filled winds.
After what seemed like an age, the storm of energy blew itself out, to be replaced by the crackling of small fires and the impacts of bits of ceiling stone and other wreckage. The air was hazy with dust and reeked of burnt wood, scorched masonry, and seared flesh. With great care the three Jedi and the Bothan stood up, looking upon what had once been the seat of government for the entire Sa'ari people, but was now little more than yet another lonely battlefield. The four observers exchanged horrified looks as they took in the aftermath and tried to come to terms with what had just transpired.
“Look, over there!” Silas shouted after several long moments of awkward silence, pointing at a spot near the epicenter of the explosion. The shattered remains of a wooden desk had begun to stir; from it, a blue hand emerged that glowed faintly with a residual aura that even he could see.
The three Jedi followed Silas as he picked his way gingerly toward the feebly stirring Eldarch. Reaching her first, the Bothan began to remove the splintered pieces of wood and plastoid that covered her. “Bellinega, can you hear me?” he whispered, after having uncovered her limp form.
“Is...she...gone?” the Eldarch asked in a thready voice as Luke, Ben and Laera crouched around her.
“Yes, you did it,” Silas replied huskily, a tear forming in his eye. “It's over. You've saved your people...”
His voice broke, and he could say no more.
“Lie still, Eldarch,” Laera added. “Iper and Fua are bringing in the medics. The Presidia and the delegates are all safe, the crowd has dispersed, and T'Yelc's forces are surrendering peacefully.”
“No, I want this,” Bellinega replied, her voice becoming raspy. “My time is done, I knew that the moment you proposed this plan. Please bring Iper and Fua to me so that I may instruct them.”
As though they had been waiting for this moment, the two lighters made their way toward where the Eldarch lay, vaulting piles of debris and hastily kneeling beside her. “What is your wish, Eldarch?” Iper inquired solemnly.
“Y-you...must take my place,” she replied, taking her hand. “Lead the Order as it learns of the Force...show our people how to be good to the galaxy. They need guidance from a younger perspective, one more open to new ideas. You...and Fua...must succeed where...Pelenora and I...failed.”
“Bellinega, stay with us!” Silas implored. “Your people still need you!”
“They do not,” she said, her words as hard as she could make them. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, then gathered Silas's hands in hers. “This was my purpose...and I have accepted it... But I do have a gift for you...so that you will no longer be left behind. No more will you be her anchor, you will be her equal.”
Silas's eyes went wide and his ears shot upward. His stare met Laera's, which was plastered with terrified bewilderment. Before he could say anything, however, a wave of energy raced through him at the speed of light, touching and engulfing every part of his body down to the smallest cells. His head reared back in a silent scream to the heavens as a sudden burst of awareness overtook him, the energy drawing him up and to his feet, and even higher as Bellinega's lifeless hands fell away from his grasp. Moment upon moment passed before, finally, he was brought gently back down to the floor.
And in that moment Bellinega T'Ledra's fleshy shell evaporated; her pale robes, now empty, falling flat.
Before Silas's knees could give way to his sudden overwhelming fatigue, Laera had sprung from her own kneeling posture in time to catch him and keep him propped up. Iper, Fua and the Skywalkers also rose, each peering into the Bothan's eyes in turn, expressions of shock and awe on their faces. “What...what just happened?” he said thickly, barely able to articulate the words.
Laera drew him into a loving embrace, bringing her nose in close to touch his as a radiant smile blossomed on her face. “My love...she has given you the Force.”
“Oh, sithspit,” he muttered before succumbing to exhaustion.
A sensation of complete and utter contentment stole through me, causing my eyelids to flutter open in time to catch a glimpse of a large number of blue women passing by. Several of them cast appreciative looks in my direction; not fully understanding why, I simply smiled vacantly back up at them. The feeling of Laera's hand brushing my cheek fur, however, brought me out of the fog that had enveloped my brain, and my eyes snapped fully open.
“Was it all just a dream?” I asked stupidly.
“No love,” she replied, still wearing that rapturous expression. “The entire planet now knows what happened in the Foruma. Somehow all of the flatcams remained intact, recording everything that took place from the moment Bellinega first entered.”
“Where are we?” I asked, not quite recognizing the area in which I lay. Someone—Laera, doubtlessly—had removed my armor before easing me onto a portable air mattress.
“The sidewalk on the other side of the boulevard from the Foruma Lawyteret,” a new voice said, which I immediately realized was that of Luke Skywalker. His facepaint was now gone, and he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, a gleam which made me chuckle slightly. “It's about three hours after the fight; construction and repair crews are still clearing the Delegate Hall.”
“You had us worried there for a moment,” Ben added, and I noted that he too had gotten rid of the blue makeup he'd worn during that morning's operation. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a billion credits,” I said wistfully, offering up a cheerful grin. Attempting to rise from the inflatable padding, I was helped to a sitting position by Laera. “But...how could she—how could anyone—have possibly just given me the Force? And why did her body vanish?”
“You know Luke, that's a fair question,” Laera said. “I mean, it's obvious he's got it, but I've never...”
“I have,” the Jedi Master replied. “Certain places, certain artifacts, have existed that are capable of literally infusing a sentient being with enough of the Force to enable that being to utilize its energies given the proper training. The Valley of the Jedi, the Scepter of the ancient Sith Lord Marka Ragnos, these were two such things that I have had personal experience with. But I've never heard of a living being possessing this ability; I can only speculate that Sa'ari physiology, along with Bellinega's vast knowledge and experience, allowed her to transfer enough of her own connection to you to unlock and radically enhance any latent Force abilities that you might have possessed.
“As for why her body dissipated...some Jedi Masters vanish when they die. This aspect is still a mystery to me.”
“Are you saying that I could become a Jedi?” I asked incredulously. A sort of explosion of glee erupted inside me, making my skin pucker beneath my fur as if an electrical current had been applied to my body.
“I believe so, yes,” Luke replied, his own smile blossoming. “But only if you choose to pursue the necessary training.”
“I think I want this,” I said, my heart racing. “And I can think of no one else better qualified to teach me.”
“While I appreciate the sentiment—” Luke began, but I cut him off with an airy wave of my hand.
“Not you, her,” I said lightly, pointing at the woman I loved.
“Are you sure?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Dad has personally trained many Jedi Knights and Masters, all of whom were adults around your age...”
“I'm certain,” I replied, standing up. “Laera Reyolé was once a drill instructor for the Republic Marines, she knows how to get results from even the most stubbornly void-brained recruit.”
“Are you sure about that, love?” Laera asked, a teasing glint in her own deep blue eyes as she crossed her hands over her chest. “Marine training is one thing, but learning how to use the Force...well, that's a whole other star cruiser. And I can be a very tough taskmaster.”
I smiled and kissed her, then looked around at those who accompanied me; HK-47 was skulking around behind a bush somewhere, while Iper and Fua—the new Eldarch and Youngarch—were conversing in rapid Sa'arese. I then turned around to take in the gathered throng as they went about the business of cleanup and rebuilding, or else simply chattering amongst themselves about the day's events. For the first time I could sense that, yes, there was indeed something more to this universe than mere beings of flesh and things of stone, steel and plastic. It was as if I had been looking at the galaxy through a keyhole, and a very special someone had finally opened the door. As though that someone had finally removed the gloves from my hands and the veil from my mind.
“Our work here is done,” I said finally, opening my hands to take in the panorama. “Let's go somewhere peaceful and you can teach me what I need to know. Kothlis is wonderful this time of year, particularly in the country...”