The V-formation of ten tiny ships didn’t move and remained pointed at the large, ominous battleship.  Maurel smiled at them from the control bridge, eager to observe the fire fight.

Captain Jorn stood at his side, much less confident than his admiral.  He had heard of the Galactic Raiders: the small, but elite group of fighters that had the reputation of outsmarting Vong battleships during the war.  Straightening himself, Jorn decided that it wasn’t the time or place to start doubting.  Then he turned to his admiral.

“Admiral Maurel, we are in attack position.  The TIE interceptors are waiting for your command.”

“Very good, Captain.  Deploy the interceptors and allow them full responsibility.  Then, when I give the word, send out the DYTE fighters,” Maurel’s young musical voice commanded, giving not one glance to his captain.

“Yes, sir,” Captain Jorn nodded, and gave his commanding officer the signal.  Then he turned back out the viewport to watch the soon-to-be battle, standing as tall as he could to match himself up to his admiral.  Of course, it would be a waste of energy.

Maurel’s smile grew, and his eyes glittered with the dark eagerness for destruction.  “This will be a day long remembered,” he sighed.

Jorn gave him a quick glance and only hoped that his admiral was right.

Lilliya awaited in silence, staring blankly at the black ship.  Her mind began to wander and drift.  Her senses became open to her surroundings and she could feel her fellow pilots and their anxiety, she could feel the cold and stillness of space, the smooth metal of the black battleship far ahead of her . . . And there was something inside it. 

Her eyes glazed over as she became lost within herself, searching for the thing within the ship.  She knew it, whatever it was.  It called to her, pulled on her mind, whispered . . . but she couldn’t understand it!  

The crystal trapped beneath her silver space suit, began glowing warmly against her sternum.  Lilliya’s gloved hand unconsciously moved to cover the area with her palm.  The voices in her earphone faded and she seemed to disappear within herself for only a moment . . .

“Yo, Crystal Girl!” Vorn called loudly over the comlink, breaking her strange trance.

“Lilliya, they’ve deployed interceptors,” she heard Jenar’s voice confirm.

Blinking twice and glancing out her cockpit window to see the tiny white TIEs flying their way, she responded with a clear voice.  “I see ‘em.  Nobody move until we know their flight pattern.”

“Yeah, but why interceptors?  They’ve got to be the oldest design of Empire-based TIEs,” a pilot named Sputtnick said.

“They must be updated,” Lilliya answered.  “There’s no way anyone would use the old interceptors unless they wanted to get their butts kicked.”

“Duh, Sputtnick.  Of course they’re gonna be updated, you dweet,” Vorn laughed.

“Lay off, Baby.  I don’t want any mock-jokes on this run, got it?” Lilliya scorned.

“Got it, Crystal Queen.  It’s all about the affirmatives,” Vorn continued to laugh.

“Pointless to give him any orders,” Lilliya muttered to herself.  Then she focused on the swarming interceptors.  There was no real logic to the way they were approaching the V-formation.  The interceptors were literally swarming around each other, sort of in a copy-cat Yuuzhan Vong pattern only not as smooth and natural.  It was a wonder how the TIEs could handle such tight maneuvers and loops.  Lilliya peered harder to see where the leader might be, and to her surprise, there didn’t seem to be one.  The oncoming enemies looked to be in a battle of their own.  If anything, it was definitely a chaotic approach.

“What do shey shink shey doing?” she heard Tongree say, as if in response to her thoughts.

“They obviously have no real pattern here,” said Sputtnick.

“No, and no leader,” Jenar said.

“Well, the plan hasn’t changed, Raiders,” Commander Tentle spoke.  “We wait until they show their faces.”

The ten Galactic Raiders waited in silence for the swarm to reach their formation.  And in a flash, ten interceptors flew above and past them without a single shot distributed.  Then another ten flew above and past them.  And another ten, and another, continuously without any attack.

The Raiders didn’t budge, though some were shaking with anxiety in their cockpits.

Lilliya bit her lip, a sudden wave of nervousness enveloping her.  The TIEs weren’t doing anything but taunting and encircling them.  At first, Lilliya thought that maybe they should have started firing on them as soon as they passed by, but then maybe that was the whole point.  Maybe the enemy wanted them to fire the first shot, so they could blame the start of the battle on somebody else.  And yet, something else told Lilliya that wasn’t the case.  Nevertheless, something was definitely telling her to move.

“All right, Raiders,” she said, keeping a steady watch on the next ten ships flying towards them.  “Enough of this catch-me game.  We’re moving out and around.  Lock s-foils in attack position.”

All Z and V-wings opened up their weapons artillery and awaited the next order from their Raid Leader.

The ten interceptors shot by again, taking no notice to the opened wings.  But suddenly, one of the interceptors quickly changed its coarse and rammed into the last V-wing from behind.

A scream and then static screeched through the Raiders’ comlinks as the fireball of both enemy and Raider dissolved into space.

“Whoa!” shouted one of the pilots in alarm.

“We just lost Waike!” announced Jenar. 

Before Lilliya could react to the death of one her shipmates, she realized all the rest of the interceptors were changing coarse and flying straight at them.

“It’s a suicide run!” yelled Sputtnick.

“All right, Raiders!  The game has begun.  Follow my lead,” Commander Tentle ordered.  The interceptors only feet away, Lilliya jammed down hard on the yoke and her Z-wing flew straight down.  All eight other ships followed her until they cleared the oncoming ships. 

Lilliya gritted her teeth.  It was too quick and too soon for one her pilots to die.  But she knew she couldn’t focus on it now.  “All Raiders, you know the drill,” she said, “we’re just here to test our enemy.  I don’t want anyone getting in a sticky situation where you’re more than likely gonna die.  And that goes for you too, Baby.”

“Hey, Crystal Girl,” his infamous satirical tone coming through, “you know me.  I gotta play with the big boys.”

“Yeah, sha big boys,” Tongree laughed.

“Fine.  I want Raid 2, 4, and 6 to follow me.  We’re gonna explore the mother ship.  The rest of you, go play with the ‘big boys’,” Commander Tentle ordered.

The Raiders split, the four Z-wings flying towards the ship and the five V-wings charging the thirty-some interceptors.

“It’s time to dance!” shouted Vorn, as he and the other four V-wings charged the oncoming interceptors.

And, as in response to Vorn’s battle cry, all interceptors fired their laser cannons.  The V-wings easily dodged the amateur shots and fired their own cannons.  A flurry of green and blue bolts filled the area.

And so began the dance.

“What’s the plan, Commander?” Sputtnick asked, as the Z-wings neared the black battle cruiser.

“You see those diamond-shaped domes on each side of the ship?  I’ve got a hunch those are the shield generators.  Let’s split up and see if we can do some damage to them,” Commander Tentle answered.

The four Z-wings separated and moved to each generator and began firing.  The black cruiser didn’t seem to respond and allowed the tiny ships to pelt it with blue laser fire.  Yet, the blue fire appeared to crackle then disintegrate against the black armor.  It was the same with the diamond generators.

“Nothing!  I can’t get through,” a frustrated Raid 6 announced.

“Same here,” Jenar agreed.  “The shields are too strong.”

“Try neuron torpedoes,” Lilliya said, “and aim only for the generators.”

All four of the ships fired the white neuron torpedoes.  The glowing white bulbs hit the generators with a pause of silence.  A second later, the torpedoes blew, impacting and shoving the small Z-wings back, and temporarily blinding the pilots.

“That was a stronger reaction than normal,” Sputtnick said, squinting against the white light.

“Hopefully it worked against those generators,” Jenar said, blinking his eyes until the white fog cleared.

The bright light disappeared only to reveal the black cruiser untouched.  And the four generators stood perfectly intact.

“Well, now we know their shields are good,” Raid 6 said, allowing a touch of sarcasm to fill the mood.

And, as if in response, the Raid 6’s shield generator began glowing red hot and then to an orange-white.

“Maybe it just takes them awhile to blow,” Sputtnick commented, as his own generator began glowing red.

“I don’t know.  I have a feeling that it has nothing to do with our neuron torpedoes,” Lilliya said, a knot wrenching her stomach.

Raid 6 watched his generator glow hotter, the white light hypnotizing and flashing.

“Wow . . . it’s amazing,” Raid 6 breathed, staring with unblinking eyes.

Suddenly, a golden beam struck out towards the Z-wing and, for only a moment, nothing happened.  But then, in absolute silence, the ship blew and disintegrated instantly.

“Sithspawn!!” cried Sputtnick in alarm.

“Dive!” Lilliya shouted, as she saw the other three generators glowing a hot white.

The three Z-wings drove downwards at the very same moment the golden beam shot out, barely missing them.  But Sputtnick’s left wing was still nicked in the escape.

“Lilliya!” he cried.  “My left wing got hit!”  He waited for the explosion, but it never came.  Instead, his wing remained dead, silver electrical waves crackling from time to time.

“Can you still fly?” she asked.

“Hardly.  I can’t turn.”  Panic began to overtake him.

“Use your emergency wing and get back down to Endor,” she ordered.

“But—“

”No!  You’re no good up here and I can’t lose any more men,” Lilliya spoke through a tight jaw.

“Lilliya!  The beam destroyed the backup wing also.  I can’t maneuver at all,” Sputtnick bit out through his terror.

Lilliya sat in silence for only a second, her mind racing.  “Jenar, can you use your tractor beam and take him down with you?  Then return as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, I can do it,” he said.

Jenar made his way towards the other side of the black cruiser to rescue the wounded Z-wing.

“Wait!  Something’s wrong,” Sputtnick cried.  “My ship!  It’s getting hot.  It’s overheating somehow.”

“I’m almost there, Sputt.  Just hang on,” Jenar said.

“Please hurry,” Lilliya whispered mostly to herself.

“I don’t know if I can take it.  I’m roasting in here.  I can’t even touch the controls anymore.  Something’s wrong!  Lilliya!” Sputtnick screamed.

“Just hold on!” Lilliya cried out.  Her heart began racing, and helplessness began to overtake her.  She didn’t know what to do.  She didn’t know how to help Sputtnick, her pilot, her friend.  “Jenar—“

”I know!  I know!  I’m almost there,” he said, panic beginning to overwhelm him also.  Finally he saw the little black Z-wing.  But it wasn’t black anymore.  It was slowly turning a shade of red, just like the diamond generators.

“I can hardly breathe in here!  I—oh no!” And in that very moment, his ship blew and melted away into the void of space.

“No,” Lilliya breathed, squeezing her eyes closed, as if that would shut out Sputtnick’s terrified scream.

“Lilliya,” she heard Jenar say, but didn’t answer.  Or couldn’t at the moment.

“Lilliya!” he called again, this time shaking her out of it.

She let out a gasp of air, along with the pain that filled her.  “We’re getting out of here and we’re calling the Galactic Alliance for help.  This isn’t something we can handle on our own.”

“Sounds good, Lil.  Let’s regroup the others,” Jenar said, his voice well controlled.

The remaining two Z-wings flew back to the chaotic battle between the V-wings and the interceptors.

“All Raiders,” Commander Tentle called to the V-wings.

“Hey, Crystal Girl!  Glad you can join us.  Did you have fun with the mother ship?” Vorn said in his usual playfulness.

“We lost Te’ther and Sputtnick.  The ship is too powerful for us to deal with and we are far outnumbered by interceptors.  It’s time for us to leave this party and call for help,” she ordered.

“Aw, and the fun was already starting,” Vorn moaned.

“I think we can take the interceptors, Commander,” spoke Raid 10.  “We’ve gotten them down to fifteen now.  They’re horrible fighters.”

“No!  We don’t know what else that cruiser has in store for us.  We need help from the Alliance,” she commanded.

“The Alliance doesn’t even remember who we are.  What makes you think—“ Vorn began.

“Vorn!” she yelled, and they know when she uses his real name, she means business.  “An order is an order!  You either do what I say or I can leave you here to freeze.”

Vorn gulped down his normal cockiness and obeyed.

“Great.  All Raiders back to Endor,” Commander Tentle finally ordered.

“They’re leaving,” Captain Jorn said, his face showing worry.

“Not to worry, Captain,” Maurel soothed, a smile spreading across his face.  “They won’t have any where to go once we’re done.  Call in the interceptors and charge the diamond laser for half-power.  Then deploy the DYTE fighters.”

“Yes, sir,” Jorn said, confidence rising for his admiral again.  “They will be much surprised at this, won’t they, Admiral.”

“They will indeed, Captain Jorn.  They will indeed.”

The darkness of space was cold and silent.  Only distant planets and stars dotted the blackness.  There was utterly nothing.

Then there was movement.  Not much, but just a shudder of the surrounding space.  A shiver within the area, as if something was trying to cut a hole in the black curtain.  Then the stars shuddered and disappeared, the blackness faded to a soft white, and a large object emerged out of the opening.  Suddenly, as if nothing had happened at all, space returned to normal.  It was black and cold and silent again.

But this time it was not alone.

There, silent and sleek, laid a ship.  It was an uncommon-looking piece of machinery, but had similar qualities of the old Empire’s destroyers.  Yet it was iron black with tiny white lights blinking around the top and bottom.  It was as large as a Calamarian battle cruiser, but shaped more as a geometric diamond.  On each of the ship’s four points, there stood a diamond-shaped dome that served as the shield generator.  And at the very middle of the ship, balancing like a second appendage upon four spikes, rested the hexagonal-shaped control bridge.  Inside the bridge and working vigorously were male humans in grey uniforms, each at their own specific station. 

 And there at the very front of the bridge, staring out the large view port, was a tall man in black with a long flowing silver cape.  He was young, muscular, and very handsome.  His ivory-colored skin contrasted starkly against his satin black uniform, his sharply-cut silver hair glistened above his face, and his eyes twinkled mysteriously like the stars far, far away.  

His eyes were the most appealing and unique features: they were a clear ocean blue with emerald rays shooting from the pupil.  But the most odd feature was the black diamond-shaped scar that seemed engraved on his left eye.  

The mysterious man, though only in his early twenties, appeared strong, wise, and experienced.  He was a man of great power.  But he was also a man of great evil.  

His ivory hands trailed down his satin uniform, taking note of the smoothness of the material, then his hands stopped at his sternum.  A right finger touched the jewel, or crystal, that hung there.  The stone hung on a thick gold chain and at the end of it, three sharp prongs clasped the crystal in between.  He never removed the charm; it was his comfort, or protection.

His crew also took note of the charm and was puzzled at first that their admiral would wear such jewelry.  Then, realizing the jewel never left him, they assumed it was an inheritance or way of expression, for the admiral rarely expressed any true feelings in the first place.

Another older man, probably the oldest man on the ship, stalked across the bridge toward the admiral.  He was much shorter, had grey hair and beard, an aged face, and pale brown eyes.  Micael Jorn was the only high-ranking former-Imperial in the Crystallite fleet.  He and a numerous amount of male soldiers were, in a sense, kidnaped during the war between the Empire and the Rebellion.  They were taken deep into the Unknown Regions, reinstated into a new military and trained on a mysterious moon to work for an entirely new empire.  They were slaves to their masters, but decidedly accepted their fate because escape was impossible.  Ultimately the former Imperials grew loyal to the Crystallite Regime and, to this day, called themselves Krystallials.  They were used as the Regime’s warship bridge crew and ground troops trained only for special missions.  Jorn was the only member with the most knowledge about the outside galaxy and was pulled out to be a type of advisor for the admiral.  And so, was immediately promoted to Captain of the warship Diamond Denominator.

Captain Micael Jorn, in his grey-green uniform, approached the admiral and stood at attention.  Then he spoke, his voice low and gruff, “Admiral Maurel, the planet Endor and its moon will soon be in sight.”

“How long, Captain,” Admiral Maurel spoke softly, almost musically, without turning to look at the man.

“About twenty minutes.  All ship bays are full and the DYTE fighters are ready for attack,” Captain Jorn announced.

“Make sure the TIE interceptors are prepared.  I do not want to use the new DYTE fighters quite yet,” Admiral Maurel said.

Captain Jorn shifted his footing and a slight frown creased his face.  He assumed the use of the DYTE fighters would be a wise choice for the small Alliance base they’d intercepted on Endor’s moon.  It would be a clean attack with no survivors; the new fighters were the best in the galaxy and they were also unheard of.  This was their gift to the unaware Alliance.

Maurel noticed the slight pause and now turned around to tower above the captain.

“Do you disagree?” Maurel asked almost innocently.  His silver eyelashes twinkling over his dark eyes.

The entire bridge went silent.  Who would ever dare disagree with the admiral?  There had been many fatal deaths in the result of that.

Captain Jorn gulped nervously, but also knew Maurel would not kill him.  Nevertheless, the admiral’s stare was terribly unnerving.

“Sir, I only believe that if we use the DYTE fighters, it would be a clean attack.  I am only thinking in the interest of our success.  If the Empire had access to fighters such as these—“

”The fighters would soon be wasted to their least potential, destroyed or stolen by the Alliance, and the Empire would, yet again, cease to exist,” Maurel broke in, his voice no longer soft, but instead dangerously low.  “I know how the Empire works.  And do I need to remind you that your Empire has become so weak it has needed to league itself with the Alliance?”

Captain Jorn could almost catch a smirk flash across the admiral’s face when he’d said that.  His own personal embarrassment flashed across his.  He knew he was the one of the only people on this ship to have lingering loyalty to the old Empire.  And he wasn’t quite sure if he was proud of it or not.  

“And further more,” Maurel continued in his low pitch, “you, Captain, are no longer apart of the Empire.  You haven’t been for quite some time, so I suggest you drop your obvious allegiance to it.  You are part of the Crystallite Regime now.”  Then he paused and a look of minacious concern crossed his eyes.  “At least, I assume you consider yourself apart of the Regime, are you not?”

That was the warning.  Jorn recognized that look in his admiral’s eyes and he dare not cross the line with him now.  He never did like the Empire, or the Alliance for that matter, so why was he making references to that old government he no longer belonged to in the first place.

Standing straighter and gaining confidence, he answered clearly, “I am apart of the Crystallite Regime, Admiral Maurel.  I apologize for my appeared dedication to the Empire.  I was only using that government as an example, nothing more.”

The admiral continued to stare silently, as if waiting for more proof.

Jorn gulped noticeably this time, and cursed himself silently for his obvious fear.  Then he continued the explanation, “And I agree wholeheartedly that the DYTE fighters would be of no good in the Empire’s hands.  Therefore, it is a wise choice to hold back the fighters for a more challenging battle.”  There, he finished.  Now he simply had to hope that was enough for the admiral’s approval.

Admiral Maurel smiled menacingly, his jeweled eyes glistening beneath his silver eyelashes.  Then, with a swirl of his silver cape, he turned back to the view port, approving Captain Jorn with his musical voice again.  “Very good, Captain.  Continue on this course to Endor.  And prepare for ambush.”

“Will we not make our presence unknown to the base before we attack?” Captain Jorn questioned again.  Then he wanted to kick himself for even asking.

“It will not make a difference, Captain Jorn,” Maurel spoke smoothly, his eyes hungering over the open space, as if starving to see Endor.  “They don’t have a chance.”

***

“Don’t you ever get sick of being stuck on this planet?  Living so redundantly?” Jenar asked, turning over on his stomach.

The two of them laid in the grass just outside the compound.  After they had wrestled around on the balcony, they had ended up rolling into the field, and that’s where they relaxed, another conversation brewing.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Lilliya answered, remaining on her back, hands behind her head, and looking up at the clear blue sky.  “But this is what I’m meant to do.  I’m the only one who can follow in my father’s footsteps.  Without me—and Dad’s not gonna live forever—the Raider Base will cease to exist.  Either that or it will be taken over by some tyrant like . . . Leia Solo or something.”

“Hey, don’t start with the Counselor Organa Solo thing again.  We all know she’s a good leader,” Jenar spoke defensively.  Lilliya, he knew, never did like this particular counselor, though she never had a good reason as to why.

“She’s too old—“

”She is not!”

“Okay, well maybe not that old.  But she’s been apart of the top government for how many years?  She’s been princess, chief of state and high counselor so many times she might as well be Empress of the Alliance.  I can’t even count how many times she’s been reelected—“

”I can,” Jenar interrupted.

“Shh, nobody asked you,” Lilliya commented, allowing a wry smile to creep on her lips.  “Anyway, I just think it’s time she retired and we had somebody new to take her place among the highest leaders of the Galactic Alliance.  Why not a man for once?  If I recall, there hasn’t been a male human on the Advisory Board for about twenty years.”

“Do you remember your history at all?” Jenar admonished.  “Whenever there was a human, or alien, male as president, the government got screwed up and all chaos was unleashed.”

“What?  Give me some good examples,” Lilliya said, obviously forgetting her history.

“First of all,” he began with a sigh, “Palpatine is a great example.  When he was elected for Chancellor, because some senator didn’t like how the other man was handling things, he destroyed the Republic and created the Empire instead.  Well, we all know what people thought of the Empire, so there was a rebellion.  The Rebellion won and created the New Republic.  After Mon Mothma, Organa Solo led the New Republic until she was voted off because some people wanted ‘more variety’, just like you want.  Then we had a bunch of male presidents at the same time the Yuuzhan Vong attacked, but because of poorly-made decisions, the war prolonged.  Again, the galaxy was screwed up.  But now, everything is better.”

“Cal Omas was a good president…” Lilliya’s voice trailed off.

“Unfortunately someone else didn’t think so and took it upon themselves to assassinate him,” Jenar said quietly.

“Okay, so you’ve convinced me that Solo’s a good president.  Doesn’t mean I have to like her,” Lilliya said firmly, quickly switching the subject.

“Great,” Jenar drawled sarcastically, “I’m glad we got this settled.”

Lilliya exaggerated her smile.  “I’m glad too.  Now we can move on to something more interesting.  Preferably something that won’t get you so defensive.”

“Oh, you exhaust me,” Jenar moaned, setting his head down on the cool grass.

Lilliya laughed loudly.  “I exhaust you?!  I think it’s the other way around.”

“I don’t think so,” Jenar smiled at her from beneath.

“Del’chlamen!” she laughed, rolling over and smacking his back.

“Ow!” he howled, rolling onto his back only to be attacked by jabbing fingers on his stomach and side.  “Okay! Okay!” he shouted through his uncontrolled laughter.  “You win!”

“What? I didn’t hear you . . .” she lied, continuing her torture.

“I said, you win!” he gasped again, trying to roll away from her tickling fingers.

She stopped, finally, lying back onto the grass next to him and laughing hard.

“You’re cruel,” he gasped beside her, catching his breath.

“Oh, but you love me anyway,” she laughed, glancing at him.

Ironic, Jenar thought, for he really, truly did.  But she never noticed.

“By the way,” she spoke after a long silence of staring at the sky, “are you ever going to tell me what you said to me in Huttese.”

“When did I say something to you?” he teased.

“Don’t play with me,” Lilliya warned, readying her fingers in tickle position.

“All right, I won’t, I won’t,” Jenar laughed nervously, not wanting to be tortured again.

“Okay, good.  So tell me.  The suspense is killing me,” she said.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tickle me for the rest of our time together,” Jenar negotiated.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly, “that’s a lot to ask for.”

“Well, then I can’t tell you if you don’t promise,” he said.

Lilliya sighed dramatically.  “Oh, all right.”

Jenar smiled, but then tensed.  He wasn’t quite sure if he should tell her. “You are my best friend in the entire universe, you do know that, right?”

Lilliya smiled slowly.  “Of course.”

“You’re always there when I need to talk with someone,” he continued, his stomach beginning to knot.  “You are the perfect person . . . the perfect woman . . .”  I don’t think I can do this . . .

“Jenar, for goodness sakes, stop avoiding my question and spit it out,” she said impatiently.  “Don’t worry, whatever it is I’ll forgive you for it,” she laughed, “I just want to know what you said.”

Jenar sighed inwardly.  She obviously didn’t get it.  She was so clueless at times like these.  And it was terribly exhausting for him.  But there was no going back now, he needed to tell her.  He wanted to tell her . . .

“Lilliya, I said that I—“

Lilliya suddenly sat upright with a sharp intake of breath as if someone had just stabbed her.  Her eyes went wide and glazed over, her diamond scar flashed dark green with fear.

Jenar was about to ask what was wrong when the warning siren went off a second later.  Normally it would be a drill, but they’d already had one for the day.  Then a loud female voice spoke on the intercom.

“All Raiders report to their ships immediately!  Unknown ship has entered the system!  Ship is in attack position!  Repeat—!”

“Oh my stars,” Lilliya gasped.

“It’s the real thing,” Jenar said.

They both looked at each other in shock, then jumped up and dashed inside.  Jenar ran back to the apartments to change into his flight suit while Lilliya rushed to the ship bay to receive orders.  

Everyone acted orderly and calm, though the excitement of a real fight coursed through their veins.  The workers filed out as normal and the Raider pilots jogged in, grabbing their helmets and loading into their Z and V-wings.

“This is it, man!” Vorn called out to Tongree as they ran to their V-wings.  “This is the day, where we will become victorious!  Where we will be as one with space.”

“Yeah, shis is sha day!” Tongree called back with equal excitement.  “Sha stars is on our sides t’day!”

Both men seemed to bounce into their fighters at once, calling out shouts of victory as the cockpit shields locked them in.

Lilliya burst out of the control room after discussing the situation with her father, and, simultaneously, Jenar dashed to her side, decked out in his fighter suit.  Despite the situation, Jenar and Lilliya both had large smiles spread across their faces as they rushed to their Z-wings.

“Are you ready for this?” Jenar asked, giving her only a glance.

“Of course!” she laughed, then asked, “Are you?”

Jenar laughed with her.  “Ready as I’ll ever be!”

“Okay, then, let’s rock the stars!” Lilliya shouted, slapping hands with Jenar and parting to their awaiting fighters.

Lilliya hopped into her Z-wing, shoved her black helmet over her head while the cockpit shield lowered above her.  Sealing her inside with a hiss, the chaotic noise was shut out, leaving her in momentary silence until she clicked on her headset.  Her fellow pilots’ voices surged through her earpiece as she readied for take-off.

Pulling on her black gloves, she signaled for role call.  After all ten fighters gave her the affirmative, she called her father.

“Admiral Tentle,” she continued with the well-rehearsed phrase, “all Raiders are ready for take-off.  Awaiting your signal.”

“Commander Tentle, you are clear to proceed,” her father’s voice came in through the earpiece.

Then without a moments hesitation, she fired her repulsorlifts and signaled the rest of her crew to do the same.  Soon they were off, flying through the upper-bay doors and into the sky.  It had been so long since they had broken atmosphere, they’re hearts were racing faster than the speed of their own ships to reach it.  The blue faded into white, then the white turned to dark blue and then to black as all ten fighters seemed to float out of the moon of  Endor’s atmosphere and into the star-studded space—Lilliya’s hair, being the only female pilot out of the Raiders, changing to silver.

For a moment, there was a silent awe from all ships.  The peace and beauty of space overwhelmed them.

“It sure is beautiful,” commented one of the pilots.

“It’s been so long, I’ve nearly forgotten,” another sighed.

Lilliya agreed, taking in as much of the peacefulness before it disappeared.

“Commander Tentle,” the admiral called on a separate line.

“Yes, sir,” she said, switching off her fighter comlink and onto another link.

“This ship is fully active with a full bay of TIE interceptors.  It looks like that’s what you’ll be up against.  The ship itself looks like an oddly shaped Star Destroyer, but the readings are way off the scale to actually be marked as one.  Unless it’s a new upgrade the Empire didn’t inform us about and that they are starting a new war with the Alliance, which I highly doubt.  I’m not finding any obvious weak spots, but I’m guessing they are the diamond-shaped shield generators on all four points of the ship.  Take a shot at it and play with it for a while, then back off and report.  If it’s big trouble then we’ll call in for help, but if not . . .”

“I got it.  Ring and run.  Easy.”

“And, Lilliya, don’t play too long.  In and out.  No heroics,” her father said sternly.

“Got it,” Lilliya said, smiling wryly.  Her father knew her too well when it came to fighting.

“Be careful,” he finished off.

“Will do,” Lilliya said, then clicked off the link and returned to her Raiders comlink.  “All right, Raiders, it’s gonna be an in and out procedure.  Nothing more, nothing less.  All wings call in.”

“Raid 2, standing by . . .” the pilots began announcing.  Once they finished, Lilliya turned back to the main objective.

“Let’s welcome our little guest, shall we,” Commander Tentle spoke.  “I want V-formation and slow movements.  We won’t move in ‘til the guest moves first, and then follow my lead.”

“Affirmative,” she heard her pilots call back.

Lilliya stood out on the small balcony letting the soft Endor breeze play with her golden hair.  It was messing up the tight braid she had done, and normally would be annoyed by that, but didn’t care this time.  Something felt odd today.  Something in the air.  She couldn’t pin point it, as usual.  Whenever she felt something odd, something odd happened.  Whether it was bad or good.  Sometimes she could tell if it was a bad feeling or a good feeling.  But most of the time she couldn’t.  This was one of those times.

It just felt odd.  Maybe it was the way she was feeling towards her father.

No.

It was that feeling again.  The feeling that something was coming.  That something was about to happen.  And soon.

Her skin crawled all over and she shivered, though it was hardly considered cool out.  It was one of those warm-but-humid days.  

Thank the stars for the breeze.

Reaching at the top of her constricting silver jumpsuit, she unzipped the front to her chest, exposing her neck, collarbone, and ivory skin.  And lying there against her sternum was the glistening crystal.  The sun hit it brightly, allowing the crystal to shoot it’s own rainbow colors of light dancing across her bosom and face.  The sun felt warm and inviting and Lilliya smiled, ignoring the nagging dark thought in the back of her mind.  Right now, she didn’t care.  It was a beautiful day and that was all that mattered at the moment.

She closed her eyes and absorbed everything around her: the scent of the green trees, the movement of the air, the sound of distant animals busy with their own lives, the taste of the sweet and pungent vegetation.

Yes, it was a good day.

“What’re you thinking about?” Jenar’s voice came up from behind.

Normally, any person would jump at the sudden intrusion, but not her.  She already knew he was there.  She could feel his presence.  It was unexplainable, but she could always feel his presence.

“About what a nice day it is,” she answered quietly, waiting for him to stand beside her.

He did.  And looked out into the forest with her.

“It is a nice day.  But Endor always has good weather.  What makes this day any different?” Jenar asked.  He had already changed into his normal black shirt and cargo pants, so the breeze could filter through him easier.

Lilliya opened her eyes and focused her attention on the ground.  

“Nothing,” she said tiredly.  “It just is.”

Jenar smiled at her.  He loved how simply she put things.  No reasons, it just is.

“So, how’s dear-old Dad?” He turned to look at her.  

Her attention shifted away from the nature now, leaning her elbows on the balcony.

“He’s too hard on me,” she said.

“Ah,” Jenar sighed.  “Well, he’s commander-in-chief and you’re his daughter.  Of course he’s going to be hard on you.  He wants you to be the best.  I wish he’d be a little harder on the rest of us.”

“No,” Lilliya smiled wryly, “that’s my job.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jenar gave a little laugh, “I forgot.”

Lilliya allowed herself to laugh with him.  Jenar was truly the only friend she had whom she could relate to and talk with.  She could be herself around him and not have to feel that she had to put on a show of strength for him like she did around the others.  It was a shame, this wall or mask she hid herself behind.  She was grateful for Jenar, that there was such a person she could open up to.  

“You’re thinking again,” Jenar broke in.

Lilliya barely flinched and turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“I’ve noticed.  Not another premonition again, is it?” Jenar’s expression turned very concerned.

Lilliya wasn’t even thinking about that nagging thought in the back of her mind, but Jenar seemed to, once again, easily pick it out.

“I don’t know, or at least I don’t think so,” she answered, looking away.

“Yeah, you know.  You always know these things, Lil.  Sometimes I think you’ve got Jedi power in you.  Maybe you should enroll into that Wayland Institution.”

Now Lilliya forced her sarcastic laugh.  “No way!  I am not going anywhere near those creepy monk-like things.  Besides, Dad would freak.”

Jenar shrugged. “Well, I don’t think they’re creepy.  But you’re right, Admiral Daddy would disapprove.”

Lilliya remained silent.

Jenar took the opportunity.  “Still . . . you do display signs of the Force.”

Lilliya had it with this topic.  She never did like these Force/Jedi discussions Jenar seemed to have a knack for bringing up.  For some reason, it set her off in “annoyed-mode”.

“Whatever,” she waved her hand indifferently.  “You can think whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Jenar fought back a sarcastic comment and smiled at her way of defense.  She always did this when they talked about an uncomfortable topic.

“Oh no!  Don’t you start avoiding now,” Jenar said, trying to make eye contact with her.  He knew how uncomfortable she got when he looked her straight in the eye.  And he also wanted to see the color of her diamond scar, knowing that it’ll give away her, otherwise, well hidden emotion.  “Maybe you are a Jedi, Lil, and you’re just hiding from your own power.”

“Blah, blah, blah! I’m not listening,” she said, covering her ears and moving farther down the balcony.

“Don’t do that, Lil,” he followed her, attempting to get in front of her path.  “You’re just gonna hide behind that mask of yours again.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to hear it,” she spoke, side stepping him the whole time.

“Well you’re gonna. You’ve got the Force.  I know, I’ve read about it on the holopad.  I’ve read about the symptoms—“

”Symptoms?  You make it sound like a disease,” Lilliya laughed.

“—and that some of the signs include premonitions.  You have them all the time. And so far all of them have come true.”

“They’re not premonitions because I don’t really know what’s going to happen. I just get a tingly feeling and that’s all.  Maybe it’s got something to do with the air or weather,” Lilliya said determinedly.

“That’s only because you’re not trained.  If you were trained, then you could pin-point whatever you’re feeling.  And it has nothing to do with the weather,” Jenar said, finally stopping her and looking her straight in the eye.

Lilliya fought against her smile, which resulted in her mouth twisting in different shapes.  She thought this whole topic was ridiculous and she wanted so badly to laugh, but knew that Jenar had always taken this seriously.

“Okay, Jenar, whatever,” she said, the smile peaking through.

“Don’t ‘whatever’ me,” Jenar said, allowing some humor to come into his voice.

“Whatever! Whatever! Whatever!” she laughed loudly.

Jenar’s stern expression remained.  “Lil, you—“

”How do you say whatever in Huttese?” Lilliya asked, completely side-stepping the entire topic.  Jenar could speak a bunch of languages and knew that he’d get lost in it if she asked him to translate for her.

“Not this time, Lil,” Jenar said stubbornly.

“Aw, come on, Jenar.  How do you say ‘whatever’ in Huttese?”

“You’re avoiding the topic.”

“So?” Lilliya said, then turned away to look out towards the forest again.

Jenar sighed.  Obviously she wasn’t going to talk about herself and the Jedi, and he definitely couldn’t make her.  Defeat number . . .

Jenar stared at her back in frustration.  Then gave up and answered, “It’s not exactly the same slang meaning you’re looking for, but it’s close enough: del’chlamen.”

Lilliya turned around and leaned up against the balcony railing.  Then she repeated him with her infamous sarcastic grin, “Del’chlamen.”

Jenar couldn’t help but smile at her.  She was such a child at times.  But that’s what he loved about her . . . that and other things.  Yes, he knew he loved her, would do anything for her, would die for her.  But that love seemed to be somewhat stuck.  She was a stubbornly independent woman and she decided when she’d fall in love.  And it obviously wasn’t any time soon.  So Jenar had to sit and wait patiently until she’d turn around.  Maybe it wouldn’t happen for a long time, and maybe it wouldn’t happen at all.  He only hoped that she would someday and that they would still be around each other when it happened.  But this was a sore subject that he didn’t like to think about often, even though sometimes he couldn’t help it.

“How long did it take you to learn all those languages?” Lilliya asked.

“Only about five years starting when I was eight,” Jenar answered, a little disappointed that she avoided the previous subject.

“Why?”

“Why?” Jenar raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why would you want to learn all four of those languages when you can have a translator droid or something?” 

“Because I didn’t want a translator droid.  And because my father wanted me to be educated in translation for the sole purpose to not need a droid to do all the work.  He also figured the Vong would destroy all machinery,” Jenar said, shrugging uncomfortably.  “I only remember certain basics now.  Phrases like ‘how are you’, or ‘what is your name’, ‘I love you’, things like that.”

“Hm, can’t imagine a Hutt saying ‘I love you’,” Lilliya commented.

“Well, they don’t say it very often like we humans do.  But when they do say it, they mean it with all their heart.  It’s simply that they don’t abuse the phrase, I guess I could say,” Jenar explained.

“Hm, well that’s interesting,” Lilliya sighed, her focus becoming distracted.

Jenar noticed.  “You get bored too easily.”

“I’m not bored!” she defended, for she really wasn’t.  

“Well you look like it when your eyes glaze over like that.”

“Sorry if I was thinking about something,” Lilliya over exaggerated her words.

“What about?”

“You prod too much.  I’ll tell you when I feel like it,” Lilliya said stubbornly, only giving a half smile.

Jenar laughed loudly and said something in Huttese.

“What did you say?” Lilliya whirled on him.

“I said, al lechufeon marahl,” Jenar smiled secretively.

“Okay, well you’re gonna have to translate that in Basic for me.” She stood with her hands on her hips.

Jenar shook his head.  “Nope.  You’ll have to look that one up.”

“What?!” Lilliya’s eyes bugged out.  “I’m not going to do that?  Come on, Jenar, tell me what you said.  Was it an insult?  Because if it was—“ She readied to smack him.

Jenar raised his arms up defensively and laughed nervously, “No, no.  It wasn’t an insult. I promise.”

“Then what was it? Tell me!” Now she was really aggravated.

Jenar just smiled at her, and said teasingly, “You prod me too much.  I’ll tell you when I feel like it.”

“Oh! You are exasperating!” she huffed.  Whirling away from him, she left him on the balcony, fighting the urge to tackle him.

It didn’t last for long.  Soon enough she was back, and tackling him to the ground.

The emergency sirens went off at the Republic Raider base on Endor.  The Z and V-wing pilots ran to their fighter ships, dressed in the new metallic-silver, life-supporting space suits, while grabbing the black helmets before climbing into their personal ships.

“All Raiders to their ships!” The male voice boomed over the intercom.  “All Raiders to their ships immediately!  Incoming enemy ship reaching orbit! Repeat . . .”

The workers in the ship bay filed out as one by one the fighter crafts readied for take-off.

“Admiral,” a female’s voice spoke through the intercom, “all Raiders are in place.  Z and V-wings are ready for take-off.  Awaiting your call.”

“Standby, Commander Tentle,” the admiral answered. After a short pause, the admiral continued, “Raid Leader, you are clear to proceed.”

“Affirmative,” the commander responded, then turned her focus on her fellow pilots sitting comfortably in their snug fighter ships.  “Raiders, prepare engines for take-off.”

The large bay room shook with the low rumbling of all ten ships firing their engines.  Joined by another lower rumble, the large ceiling bay doors slid open to allow the bright light of Endor’s sun streak through.  The Raid leader glanced up at the sky for a second, letting the warm sun soak into her ivory skin.  A small smile crept onto her mouth.  It was a good day, she thought.  Then she focused again on her task.

“Admiral, prepare bay for lift-off,” she spoke, her voice still booming loudly over the intercom.

“Bay is clear,” the admiral responded.

“All Raiders in check?” the commander continued with her analysis.

“Affirmative.  All Raiders in check,” the admiral spoke instead of her fellow pilots, not the response she was expecting.

The commander winced, realizing her mistake.  “Thank you, Admiral,” she answered with a touch of sarcasm, then winced again at her second mistake.  She was hesitating, going too slow, she knew.  Then she couldn’t resist her sarcastic response to the admiral, and, boy, was she going to get it.  The commander quickly tried to save the moment.  “All ships, follow my lead.”  

Then they were off.  All ten ships flew up and out of the bay and into the warm sunlight.  But the ships remained in Endor’s atmosphere, never breaking space.  With the commander’s Z-wing in lead, they looped and circled and practiced a few evasive maneuvers for about an hour until the admiral called them back in from their daily drill.

The fighter ships landed inside of the ship bay and the low rumble of the engines softened until the only sound left was the echoing hustle and bustle of pilots emerging from their cockpits and engineers returning to their duties.

“Drill, drill, drill,” grumbled one of the shorter pilots named Vorn, “man, that’s all we ever do now.  When’s the real thing gonna happen.”

“Yeah, I didn’ sign up wit’ sha Raida’s for shis,” spoke a seven-foot tall green-headed man named Tongree who had a speech impediment.

“Hey, would you rather be fighting Vongs or doing drills,” another human pilot said beside the duo.  He was about normal size with black hair and ice-blue eyes, and rather handsome considered by human standards.

“Sure,” Vorn spoke up defensively, then began his dramatic complaint, “anything to end this day-by-day torturing, boring, tedious . . . stoic—you like that word?—stoic . . . torturing—“

”You already said that one,” the handsome pilot interrupted Vorn’s tirade.

“Whatever—crazy-ass, damnable drills!”  Vorn’s dramatic tirade broke into loud echoing calls of “sorrow”, grabbing the other pilots around him and falling to his knees for effect.  “Oh! Why the drills?! Please, someone end the pain and suffering!!”

“Get off the floor, Baby, or I’ll give you something to really cry about,” the female Raid leader spoke from behind.  Smacking Vorn on the back of his head, she walked around him and the other pilots in annoyance.

“Ow,” Vorn exaggerated, then got up off the floor and the three pilots followed the tall woman.

“Gee, who threw you into the trash compactor,” Vorn, or Baby as the Raid leader had called him, said.

“Go sell yourself to a holotheater, since you have so obviously expressed that’s where you belong.” The woman turned around, allowing her annoyance turn into thick sarcasm.

“Ooh,” the two awkward looking humans responded in equal sarcasm, smiles creeping up on their faces.  The third human stood their in silence with his arms crossed and eyeing the woman carefully. 

“That hurt,” Vorn embellished the moment, “look I’m dying. I’m dying. Crystal Queen has stabbed me with her sarcastic tongue.  Help . . . help . . . cough . . .”  Once again, Vorn had dramatically ended up on the floor, his free hand gripping the handsome pilot’s arm.

The woman placed her hands on her hips and no matter how hard she tried, a smile sneaked up on her lips. “Oh, poor Baby.  Jenar, you think you could revive him?” The woman flashed a wry smile towards the handsome pilot.

“I don’t know, Lilliya, it looks fatal,” Jenar responded back with another wry smile.

Vorn immediately got up from his fallen position on the floor and brushed himself off.  Tongree patted him on the back then all three of the men walked over to the amused woman.  It was obvious that these four humans were close, even through their sarcastic insults.  They were closer to each other than to any other Raider pilot, growing up together from their early teens to adulthood.  The young woman named Lilliya was the one who introduced the trio to the Raiders: a small and secret group of old and new pilots from across the galaxy that her father had collected to create the Raider base on the fourth  moon of Endor.  For five years they had been stationed on the moon to guard the galaxy from any unknown entity.  The Galactic Alliance funded them for only a little while until it seemed as though the government had forgotten about them.  

Which was fine according to the small group of fighters.  They worked hard on the base and enjoyed the privacy Endor provided them, with the exception of a few Ewok encounters.  The little beings soon became allied with the Raiders, which was a good thing, since the group of pilots were uncultured in the wilds of Endor.  A few attacks by large, unknown beasts on the small compound soon proved just how important the Ewoks were.

Unfortunately—according to Vorn—the strange beasts were the only so-called “action” the Raiders ever had to defend against.  They never encountered any strange ships from outside the Galactic Alliance, resulting in drill after drill after drill . . .

“I wonder if you’ll ever grow up, Baby,” Lilliya smirked.

“You’re just pissed off ‘cause you messed up the drill today,” Vorn sneered.

“Yeah, well one screw up over a hundred doesn’t seem like a big deal to me,” Lilliya countered, raising her right eyebrow.

“Shen why you piss’ off, Lil?” Tongree mock-smiled.

“Commander Tentle, report to the Admiral’s office immediately,” a male’s voice boomed over the intercom, almost as in answer to the green-headed man’s question.

The woman tensed, pumping her fists in frustration.  “That’s why,” she muttered.  Spinning around, she marched to the admiral’s office, imagining Vorn and Tongree smiling and teasing her from behind.  Of course, Jenar would be smacking them upside the head in defense for her.  Ah, how she loved those boys.

Lilliya stood at attention inside the admiral’s office, as the tall, grey-bearded man paced back and forth in front of her.  It seemed to take an eternity for the admiral to spill out his scoldings.  It didn’t help much on her behalf: she, standing there nearly shaking out of her body with intense frustration at the constant silence.

Finally the admiral ceased his pacing and stood at attention in front of her.  A deep frown creased his wrinkly face, as if he was trying too hard to figure out what she was thinking, reading nothing from her carefully controlled blank face.

“Too long,” he finally said, his voice low and gruff.

She knew.

“And you’re getting lazy.”  He moved away from her and sat behind his desk.

Now a frown creased her forehead. 

Lazy? 

But she said nothing.

“Yes, lazy,” the admiral said, as if reading her mind.  “Too long and too lazy. You need to watch that.”

“Yes, sir,” Lilliya nodded, trying her best to hide her frustration.

“And it doesn’t make a difference how many times we have done this drill—perfect every time.  No excuses.  I want perfect drills, perfect performances, and if you can’t give me that, Commander, then I’m afraid I might have to find another Raid Leader.” The admiral stared at her underneath his bushy grey eyebrows, then scratched at his goatee involuntarily.

Lilliya cleared her throat, aching to say something in her defense.

The older man’s eyebrows raised in response, and waited for her to flinch.  When it seemed as if she wouldn’t budge, he then allowed her to speak.

“Do you have something to say, Commander?”

“Yes, Admiral,” she said, pushing back the nagging sarcasm she’d grown so accustomed to, “I apologize for my mistake in taking too much precaution.  In the future, I will be more quick to take-off.  But I must say something in my defense: I do not think I was being at all lazy.”

“You don’t, do you?” The admiral sat up straight.  He was eager to hear her excuse.

Without fidgeting and without blinking, she continued without hesitation, “No, Admiral.  I believe I was very much at attention.  I listen very intently when I am in that cockpit.  I even listen to the sound of all ten engines to make sure nothing sounds out of the ordinary.  I listen to every order you make, and I listen to every muffled comment my men make.  I am very cautious about jumping into space for a battle.  You don’t want us to go up there, readying for a fight, if something wrong were to happen to a ship or pilot, or if I didn’t follow through all the precautions necessary—“

”Yes, yes,” the admiral interrupted, “I understand your concern, but this time you were too cautious, almost hesitant.  And that’s not like you.”

Now she was confused.  Standing out of attention, she made her way closer to the admiral’s desk. 

 “Too cautious?  I’ve always been cautious.  The drill today was no different than all those other drills I had performed.”

“No, you were slower.  And I know you know you were slower.  But in real combat situations, if an unknown battle ship was readying to attack us, there wouldn’t be time for all those precautions you seem to take your time with.  I apologize that I didn’t catch it quick enough.  I just assumed you were perfect.” Now the admiral stood up from his chair to stand directly in front of her.  They were almost the same height, he noticed without thinking.

“Hm, and who’s fault is that?” Lilliya dropped her military persona and allowed her sarcasm to continue with the topic.  She glared straight into his eyes, and he matched it.

“You have just crossed the line with your admiral,” he said, then stepped away and turned his back on her to look out the small window at the green forest beyond.

Lilliya let out all of her hot air, along with her professionalism, and stood with hands on hips, glaring at his back.  “Well, you just crossed the line with your daughter,” she said huffily.  Then she shook her head in exhaustion, “Why do you have to be so damn hard on me?”

“I am your admiral,” he said to the window.

Lilliya stalked to him and stood beside him at the window, trying her best not to let her frustration with her father take over.  

“You are also my father,” Lilliya sighed, too exhausted to argue anymore.

“Giving me more reason why I want you to be perfect.” He glanced at her. “I need you to be perfect.”

Lilliya gritted her teeth.  “I thought I was being perfect when I made sure everything was in order, that there were no flaws.  I thought you wanted me to be cautious—always telling me the reason why so many pilots die is because they rush into space instead of taking their time.”

Her father shook his head.  “Not because they didn’t take their time.  Because they hurried to the task of fighting instead of internally preparing themselves about why they were fighting, or who they were fighting.”

“Okay, so when do we do these internal exercises?” Lilliya spoke with half sarcasm.

“Where did you pick up this sharp tongue of yours?” Admiral Tentle turned to her, a wry smile curled on his lips.

“Oh, just something I contracted from the boys,” Lilliya shrugged, grateful that the conversation was finally becoming more casual.  Something she sorely missed with her father.

Tentle squeezed her shoulder and laughed softly.  “You do know that I love you, right?”

Lilliya allowed herself to slump up against him and smiled with only a hint of embarrassment. “Of course, Dad.”  

Then she stood straighter again.  As much as she yearned for it, she could never bring herself to linger in the affection.  She loved her father with all her being and only dreamed for them to have more father-daughter moments like these.  But in the end, she didn’t think she could handle all the “mushy love”moments, as she would refer to it.  She was brought up during the Yuuzhan Vong War, so there was no time for love there, and lived on a base all her life with men ranging from Corellia to Tatooine.  Smugglers, pirates, and military men all in one.  It wasn’t a life-style a mother would want for her child.  

But what could her mother do about it?  She had died when Lilliya was only seven.  Love was simply not something Lilliya flaunted or expressed.  If she even knew how to express it.

That might have been the one thing Tentle regretted when bringing up his daughter.  

He looked at her silently and unnoticed, or at least he thought, observing her profile.  She looked nothing like him or his late wife.  He knew that some foster children picked up some of their foster parents’ features, and hoped against hope that Lilliya would do exactly that.  But to no avail.  She would look like someone else’s child, whoever that someone else was.  Tentle remembered when he and his wife found the girl.  She was only an infant, abandoned on Mon Calamari in a tiny, very odd looking space pod.  Her gold-blonde hair, which oddly enough faded into silver when in darkness, glistened unnaturally, her skin an ivory color, and her eyes. . . 

Her eyes were the oddest feature he had ever seen on a human.  Her right eye was a sapphire blue and her left was an emerald green, but on the left was a perfectly cut diamond shaped scar.  It was unnatural, as if someone had tattooed it on the baby’s eye—which was imaginable knowing how the Yuuzhan Vong society worked—the side points of the diamond starting from the pupil to the white of the eye, the vertical points inline with the emerald-colored iris.  But the odd thing was the scar literally had color to it, more like it changed color depending on her mood.  He remembered the shock everyone was in, himself included, when seeing the diamond scar change from blue to red when the baby cried.  He soon had the colors matched with the emotions when Lilliya had gotten older.  Now, no matter how hard she would try to hide her feelings, he would know simply through the telltale diamond scar.

Another odd thing that they had found with the baby was a crystal necklace.  Laced around the baby’s neck was a golden material unknown to every jeweler and attached to it were three very thin and sharp gold-metal prongs. And inside was the crystal.  The crystal itself was alien to the known galaxy.  It was clear and seemed to reflect every object in sight.  It would also change temperature depending on the activity Lilliya would do when she grew older.  Sometimes it would be searing hot and other times freezing cold.  The girl rarely took it off, if ever.  They never figured out why she had the necklace, but it seemed to be apart of her soul, her life force.  

And she called it her lucky charm.

“You’re staring,” she spoke quietly, then turned from the window to look at her father.

Tentle cleared his throat and shifted his eyes away from hers.  Sometimes her look could be so unnerving, even for a man his age.  “Just admiring my girl,” was all he said, then smiled and turned away from the window, moving towards his desk.  “I suppose we will introduce the internal exercise to the rest of the crew tomorrow.  Is that a plan?” Admiral Tentle smiled, though it was back-to-business time.  He scratched at his goatee again.

Lilliya smiled back and sighed, knowing the father-daughter moment had passed.  It was nice and comfortable this time.  She liked it.

“Yeah, sure.  It’s a good plan,” she answered, moving towards the door.  It opened and she stepped through.

“See you at dinner, Lilliya,” her father said before she left.

Lilliya paused in the doorway.  Her smile froze.  Rarely did she hear her father say her name.  And she loved it.

“Sure, Dad.”  She turned halfway and flashed him a small smile.  

The door slid shut.

Coruscant: a ghost planet.  All that remained were the toppling rusted towers and crumbling blackened homes of a long ago civilization.  Fog swirled around the cold grey metal of the buildings; the atmosphere was uninhabitable now.  It was never foreseen that the largest city and capital planet of the Alliance, where billions among billions of people made their living, would ultimately be the galaxy’s largest graveyard.  To think that a planet so enormous and immensely populated could be destroyed by a single blast of energy manipulated by something so evil that couldn’t be stopped.  It destroyed the way of thinking for the galaxy.  These people were dead, their spirits lying in waste among the cold and crumbling steeples of this long forgotten civilization.

The hermit remembered.  And remembering as he did, the children remembered also.  Through their minds’ eye, they saw the ruined city of Coruscant, felt the chill of the desolation, the suffering of the dead.  And then it began to change . . .

As the hermit transported them through and into the past, the city shivered and changed.  The death and cold melted away, the white fog dissipated, the black scorch marks and burnt rust faded until the silver of the metal could shine through again.  The towers and steeples stacked themselves up again until the slender tops could stab at the, now, blue sky.  Suddenly, an air speeder zipped by, then another one and another, until the sky was filled with air speeder traffic.  High electronic noise filled the silence again, and just beneath it was a small, some what organic, sound.  Voices.  Human voices.  Human and Calamarian, Chiss, and every other alien voice ever accounted for.  The people were alive again.  The city-planet had morphed and Coruscant had returned to the way it once was.  It was the capital of the entire galaxy.

And as the capital, it was also the busiest planet, particularly this day.  Since the armistice of the Yuuzhan Vong and Alliance, it became a national holiday—one in which every person would partake in, creating traffic jams around every turn.  There were atmosphere parades, fire shows, five mile long block parties, private parties, public and private dances, masquerades, formal dinners and non-formal dinners.  The list went on and on.  And the partying would last for a week.  Some people hated the holiday for it was considered stressful, claustrophobic, and as one of the only holidays where they really began to notice just how much over-populated the galaxy was.  Nevertheless, they continued with their own celebrating, secretly cursing their ruling advisory council.

Leia Organa Solo didn’t care much for being on the council board either.  Tricked, guilted, and forced into the dominating position again, the woman wondered if she would ever be rid of government responsibilities.  Being now in her sixties, she would assume retirement a good enough excuse, but the counselors, along with the majority of the galaxy, had insisted, knowing she would bring wise influence and advise to the diverse board.  Even if she ran and hid far away from everyone and thing, living in her own tiny world, she knew her fate with politics would hunt her down relentlessly.  It was no use to run away for there was really no place to run to.  She should know, she’d tried it.  In the end, she admitted she rather enjoyed her life with politics, though busy and stressful and claustrophobic.

This particular day, though hectic for the rest of the Galactic Alliance, was finally calming down for Counselor Organa Solo.  Knowing the advisory board had organized the Grand Ball Room for the YVA Armistice celebration, and knowing it was two nights away, she had finally been able to relax for the week from the responsibility the council had put on her shoulders.  The decorating committee, which were the newly enhanced Human Replicant Droids, or HD3s, specialized in great imagination and decorating, had the entire Grand Ball Room, along with every guest suite soon to be occupied, under their imaginative control.

Yes, Leia could relax.  The only duty she had to perform now was welcome every delegate and their families from all across the Alliance to the Galactic Palace.  Easy.  The only difficult part about it was getting her family together to greet the guests, as it seemed the other council members easily could accomplish.  Leia decided it was nearly an impossible task and after a month of, well, begging, she gave up trying. Her son Jacen was swamped with all the new young adults, who had never been trained as Jedi before, arriving at the Jedi Institute on Ossus.  Her brother Luke was similarly busy with matters of importance with the Jedi Council also located far away on Wayland.  Luke’s son Ben was fully occupied with his flight academic studies and Jedi training to even bother answering Leia’s calls.  Her daughter Jaina, recently returned from a stressful patrol of the galaxy with Gavin Darklighter and the Twin Suns Squadron, was the only family member, other than her husband Han, to be with Leia on Coruscant when the delegates arrived.  Though Jaina was there, she refused to, quote, “greet people she had no recognition of” and that it “wasn’t her place to stand like an HD, look pretty and pointlessly wave and greet with fake smiles galore . . .”  Leia let it go at that, too tired to argue with her stubborn daughter.  So it was only she and Han.  She supposed that was good enough anyway.

A gold and blue Galactic-signed air speeder made it’s way through the thick traffic and toward the Galactic Palace.  The palace was different in shape and color than the long ago Imperial Palace which no longer existed.  It had an organic appeal to it, inspired by the Yuuzhan Vong lifestyle.  It stood tall and slender in the middle of a cavernous rock formation which encased the bottom of the palace.  The metal itself was a certain type of gold color that mirrored images of the distant cities and had a rippling rainbow effect when the two suns hit it just right, between morning and evening.  It was built by the Calamarians, in honor of the victory between the Vong and Alliance.  It was meant to be built on Mon Calamari itself, but the inhabitants weren’t too pleased about having the capital of the government stationed on their home and the council agreed that it wasn’t the “right kind of environment” for a capital—that Coruscant had always been the right planet for the government to remain in the first place.  And now that they had fought for and earned the planet back from the Vong, what would stop them from stationing their government back where it belonged.  And so, they did, building the Galactic Palace out of specialized Calamari metal and growing Calamari coral rock all around the bottom.  It was not only beautiful, but one of the most durable strong-holds in the Alliance.  Probably the strongest of them all.

Exiting the black security tunnel and entering from beneath the invisible protective shield of the lone palace, the gold and blue air speeder made its way to the security gates to be inspected before docking.  It was one of the delegate’s speeder that Leia and the other council members would ultimately have to welcome.

But the one who received the message of the arrival was Leia’s personal droid, C-3PO.  Though, one of the oldest models still allowed by government law to be functional, mostly because Leia insisted, he continued to perform his duties with the utmost accuracy—or at least what Threepio assumed was “utmost accuracy”.  The gold droid, accompanied by Jaina’s newer pilot counterpart R6-L6, or Lex, received the call and shuffled down the window-covered corridors to the northeast side where the counselor-family apartments were located, the two bickering all the way.

“No, I am not the least surprised that Mistress Leia had not been informed of the next delegates,” Threepio spoke rapidly to the small droid beside him.  “Besides, she had intrusted me to inform her of the arrivals.  Mistress Leia cannot always be on top of everything.”

A few low bleeps and gurgles sounded from the droid below.

Threepio swung dramatically to face the droid, but still able to walk forward, and said with some shock, “What do you mean it was a bad idea on her part?  Are you insinuating that I am not quick enough to the task?   Do you think I am not capable of delivering such messages?  I dare say, Lex, you have been programed with too much of Commander Jaina’s personality to be for your own good.”

Then a wild string a blurps and beeps trailed out and the stubbier droid halted, forcing Threepio in his tracks.

“See, you react with such terrible sensitivity that I’m afraid you may blow a circuit some day.  Commander Jaina should have you reprogrammed this instant!” Threepio announced, and continued on his way.

The silver droid paused to filter what Threepio had said, then a soft low moan emanated from her metal encased body.

Threepio turned around to face Lex and this time spoke more gently.  “Oh, dear.  Lex, please do not be like this on my account.  I only have the utmost worry for your circuits.  This human-like personality Jaina had installed in you might be too dangerous for a tiny droid as yourself.”

Again, the sad moan.

“Oh, come now.  Let’s forget this little dispute and contact Mistress Leia.  I apologize for any hurt that I might have caused you, Lex.  Now come on or we shall be too late.” Threepio waited for the little droid to catch up, then continued on their way to the Solo apartment.

The little droid emitted a very soft electronic chuckle all the way there, and if she were human, there would be a slight smirk on her face revealing her very sly and persuasive manner.  She was always able to make Threepio feel badly for her and apologize in the end, no matter what the circumstance.  And it wasn’t her added programming Jaina had done, but R2-D2’s downloading that had taught her how to deal with Threepio.  And with Artoo gone on Wayland with the Master Jedi, she was the only other droid Threepio would care to talk with and she had plenty of practice done over the month.  And yes, it was fun, for as much fun a droid could have.

“Oh dear,” Threepio moaned, noticing that he was indeed running behind schedule and that the arriving party must have been waiting impatiently for the last council member to greet them.  And it would be all his fault, no matter how distracted he was by Lex.  “It appears that we will not be on time, Lex.  And when Leia realizes just how late she is, I am positive we will be thrown into the recycler, abandoned at the mines of Kessel, sold as scrap to the Jawas of Tatooine . . .”

Lex produced an annoyed blurp.

Threepio gasped.  “I will not simply shut up.  I take my life-state seriously, unlike you, I’ve observed.  And you obviously do not understand the kind of peril we will be in if we do not hurry.  When Mistress Leia gets mad, she is not only simply mad, but she is—“

”I am what?”

Threepio ran smack into another body, this time human.  The gold droid let out a tiny squeal of shock, then hurriedly composed himself.

“Oh, Mistress Leia. We were just coming to see you,” Threepio said meekly.

The tiny silver droid began to chuckle lightly, but then received a kick from Threepio.

“Yes,” the woman said slowly, “I can see that.  And I can also see that you are busy telling our little Lex stories of—what was it?—a merciless woman who gets really, really mad?  Where do you come up with these ideas, Threepio?”  The woman smiled, aged lines creasing the corners of her mouth and underneath her eyes.  Though in her sixties, she still looked fairly young.  War and suffering was the only thing that really aged her face, which was to say, was still smooth and cream-colored.  Her brown hair was now streaked with silver highlights which actually accentuated her elaborate hair-styles.  The fire and passion still remained in her glowing brown eyes, never ceasing.

Threepio stuttered.  He knew very well that Leia wouldn’t have dispelled of them like that in any way.  Nevertheless, he wanted to, well, show off for the little droid.

“Mistress Leia, these ideas are only a . . . a way of learning for us droids.  It teaches us to be more punctual, to be more like the HD3’s.  And as of now, we apologize for being so late to inform you of the delegates.”

“I already know of them,” she said.  “I was called by Lex through the messenger the moment they had arrived at the security gates.  And I am on my way now.”  She turned and patted the tiny silver droid on the dome.  “Thank you, Lex.”

Threepio was speechless.  Then he also turned to Lex, but instead smacked her on the top of the dome.  “Why didn’t you tell me, you little twit?”

“Threepio, is that anyway to talk to a lady?” a man’s voice piped in from another room.  Han Solo stepped out into the corridor next to his wife and cocked an eyebrow at the gold droid.  For a man of seventy, he too still looked as fresh as he could.  The only thing giving away his age was his silver hair.  Though cosmetics would have solved that little give-away, Leia would have killed Han if he had dyed it.  Not that he gave much thought to it anyway.

Leia’s mouth curved into another smirk, reading the look of surprise on Threepio’s face.

“Well, sir. . .” Threepio began.

Han raised a hand to stop him, not really caring what the droid had to say.

Instead, Leia spoke up.  “Threepio, I think you need some lessons in politeness.  This isn’t Artoo, you know.” She smiled at her husband.  “This is a lady-droid.  You must treat her . . . like you treat me.”  Teasing Threepio had never gotten tiring according to Leia or Han.  In fact, everyone teased Threepio these days, with the exception of Luke who had always been somewhat compassionate to him.

“Of course, Mistress Leia.  But she is just another droid—“

Leia gasped sharply, producing an exaggerated frown on her face.  “Just another droid?!  Oh, poor Lex. I feel sorry you have to put up with such rudeness.”

“Rudeness? I dare say—“ Threepio began.

“No you’d better not,” Han cut him off.  Tired of where this conversation between human and droid was going, he looked to his wife as a signal to leave.

Catching the look, Leia turned to the droid and said, “Threepio, as much as I enjoy these little chats of ours, Han and I do have somewhere to be at this moment.  And it appears we are going to be late.  So, if you’ll excuse us . . .”

Leia took Han’s arm and they made there way past the two droids, leaving Threepio in, yet, another awkward position of a confused state of mind.

Lex let out another high pitch laugh, amused by the activity of human versus protocol.

Threepio glared down at her, as much of a glare he could produce with his motionless face, then huffed off down the opposite end of the hall, wishing only that Artoo was there.  Of course, he was soon followed by his new counterpart and they continued into another conversation.

“Sometimes I wish you’d have allowed the Council to declare all metal droids illegal,” Han groaned to his wife as they made their way to the docking bays where their guests awaited.

Leia sighed.  It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this comment.  “Han, you know how traumatizng that would be for the kids and Luke if we had gotten rid of Threepio.  And you know very well that you’d end up missing him.”

Han shrugged uncomfortably, knowing how true that statement was.  “Well, can’t you at least upgrade him?  To at least the standard of an HD.”

“It’s crossed my mind a couple of times,” Leia admitted, “But then think how different Threepio would be, not to mention boring and too nice.”

“Yeah, I guess.”  Han had to admit, the HDs were creepier than any other droid he’d encountered.  Way too life-like, way too nice, and way too humane—more humane than a real human, according to Han. They were like clones, in a lot of ways, only they looked different.  And to Han’s relief, they didn’t look too much like humans.  With the synthetic skin too waxy and white and the synthetic hair too dry, it was easy to tell up close which was human and which was droid.  The synthetic corporations were still working on producing better realistic skin and hair.  Han only hoped they didn’t improve.  He never did like droids.

“Besides, what fun would it be if we could finally have a good conversation with Threepio.  We’d have to resort to making fun of Artoo or Lex.  And since we can’t really understand them without a translator, it would pretty much be a one way conversation.  Not to mention we wouldn’t be able to talk with Lex or Artoo if the law said ‘no metal droids’ and—“

”All right, all right,” Han interrupted his wife, “I get the point.”

Leia smiled.  No matter how old they were getting, it never got old teasing him like this.  “Just making sure you understand the consequences of such wishes.”  She wrapped her arm around his waist—thankfully noting his abdomen was still toned.

“I had gotten it two minutes ago,” Han said, a smile creeping around his mouth at the touch of her arm.  He responded in pulling her closer to his side as they walked, he also happily noting the firmness of her body.  They might have been old, but they still looked good as ever.  “Speaking of which, we’re late again to meet these alleged diplomats, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Leia shrugged tiredly.  “I haven’t been able to work up the energy to greet yet another diplomat for the past couple of days. It’s becoming quite tedious.  They constantly arrive, and I constantly have to climb out of my room, and constantly have to shake hands, smile, and lead the way to wherever they wish.”

“Well, it beats planning and decorating the entire banquet then meeting all of the diplomats, don’t you think?” Han reasoned.

“Yes, I know.  I just like to complain a lot,” she smiled. “You know that.”

Han smiled, pulling away to grasp her hand.

“I know.”

Then his smile faded into a slight frown.  “By the way, when are Luke, Jacen, and Ben arriving?  They are coming to Coruscant this time, right?”

Leia sighed, not really sure of the answer to that.  “As far as I know, they’ll be here by tomorrow.  But, you know them, they might cancel, finding some excuse to not be with their family.”

“Leia,” Han frowned, “you know they’ve been very busy this year.  It seems as if Jedi are sprouting up all over the galaxy and enrolling at Ossus.  They got exactly what they wished for.”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Leia sighed again.  “I only wish they had more time to spend with their family.  They need a break just as much as I needed a break.  I’ve got my vacation now, sort of, and they’ve got theirs hanging above their heads.  Why don’t they take it?”

“Luke’s just like you: a work-aholic.  Especially since he’s had nothing else better to do with his time.  With Ben running all over the galaxy and having no time for his own father, Luke’s completely alone, so he’s got to find something to pass the time away.”

Leia grimaced, bad memories about the disappearance of Mara, Luke’s beloved wife, resurfacing.  They had tried everything, searched everywhere, inquired everyone, but nothing was found.  Not a clue, sign, anything that could lead Luke to his wife was evident.  She had simply disappeared without a trace.  It could have destroyed Luke if it wasn’t for his son.  Back then, Ben was only eight and already training with his Force talents.  Leia had known that Luke wanted only to curl up and die some place where no one could find him.  He had told her many nights.  But of course, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his only son, the only thing that reminded him of Mara, the only physically living being that was part-Mara, the only walking and breathing and living reminder of Luke and Mara’s love.

But now Ben was twenty and very much independent.  He never seemed to have time for his father anymore, so Luke was alone again.  The only thing he could live through were the Jedi students at Wayland and Ossus.  It truly was his only past-time.

And Leia pained for him, wanted so much for him to stay with Han and her.  Luke of course would refuse, not wanting to feel like a wasting-away hermit.  Han agreed with Luke, supporting him in his decision to remain on Wayland.  Leia hated the idea.

They exited the lift they had been riding to the docking bay levels and continued on their walk to the awaiting delegates.

“ . . . And Jacen is equally busy with all of the incoming Jedi.  There’s no telling when they’ll be here, if they’ll ever come,” Leia said.

“They’ll be here,” Han reassured, squeezing her hand.

A security-type, “male” HD stepped up to them as they reached one of the docking bays.  It smiled at them, one of those creepy, unrealistic smiles that always gave Han the chills.

“Welcome, Counselor Organa Solo and Captain Solo,” it said, the voice much too musical and soft to be real.  “The Governor Alamen of Mon Calamari and his family have been waiting for you.  Please, if you will follow me.”  The HD turned with such grace that it even shamed a professional dancer.  Some would argue the HD race will some day replace humans themselves.  That was Han’s biggest fear: a droid revolution.

“Thank you,” Leia nodded and let go of Han’s hand as they entered through the security door, following the HD.

“I hope this group goes by quickly,” Han whispered in Leia’s ear, spotting the large Calamarian family watching the HDs unload their enormous amount of luggage by their speeder.

Leia nodded, smoothing down her velvet, wine-colored pant-suit and throwing on her best smile, and readied herself for their guests, knowing very well how painstakingly long it will take to simply settle the Calamarian family in their apartments.

“Boy, would I give for some kind of adventure right now,” Han grumbled, reading Leia’s posture and knowing this will be a long day.

“Be careful what you wish for, my love,” Leia muttered under her breath as they approached their guests.  It was, indeed, going to be a long day.