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Homecoming
The tenth Tale of Miklinar

NC-17

The Star Wars movies, their universe, concepts, and characters are the property of George Lucas and whomever else he has licensed. My characters and concepts, unless otherwise noted, are my property. In case of dispute, Lucas wins, no argument. There is no money being made on this story.

The "Homecoming" file you found next to "Rescue Party" was only notes, so you decide to track Miklinar down for the story.

He's in the genetics clinic, helping optimize crosses, pointing out combinations that would produce specific characteristics.

"Nothing dramatic. Just eliminating an allergy or two, correcting a tendency to loss of hearing. Making the best child the two parents in question can produce."

 "Do you ever try to talk a couple out of having children together? Or a single person from breeding at all?"

 "We point out weaknesses. Most of us can produce something undamaged, even if the lab has to pick and choose carefully."

 The final combination was made, and the results stored for a pair of parents to collect later.

Homecoming
as told by Miklinar

      The fast courier ship entered the Sith system and nearly collided with another, larger ship. It was Luke, waiting with EmDee droids and other amenities.

     "The landing will be public -- your change of command ceremony. I thought you might like to be presentable."

     Leia disappeared into the larger ship with an EmDee droid, a Stores droid, and, to Luke's surprise, Alland Emmer. "Who is he?"

     "A new recruit. He's a Jedi."

      Another EmDee droid inspected Vader. "Sir, you need long-term damage repair. I do not have the facilities here to help you."

      Vader smiled tiredly. "I know. Hospital as soon as we land."

      "Yes, sir. " The EmDee drew its instruments inward, shifting into travel mode.

      A Stores droid produced fresh Sith uniforms for Vader and Garn. Garn sighed as the hot water of the 'fresher eased muscles tired of being in a too small place. And the clean uniform was fabulous.

      Leia and Alland joined the others in the exit passageway. Leia was in a gown of a soft pearl grey, the cloth floating over her curves. She was coifed and painted as a princess ready for Imperial Court, polished and serene.

      Her companion matched her beauty: Alland's perfectly tailored Imperial uniform, his flawlessly combed red hair, a cold, inhuman perfection of feature held in precise polite lack of expression.

      "Damn. They're perfect together," Luke said.

      Garn just grinned, looking at them.

      The posed presentation broke when Leia stepped forward. She swirled, looking down at her flowing skirt. "Isn't this wonderful?"

      Alland was watching Luke. Luke finally realized that he was the target of Alland's interest, and shook his head, blushing. Alland inclined his head, ever so slightly to acknowledge, then... diminished, no longer drawing the eye. "I had hopes, but not expectations. You're safe with me -- safer than with Garn, who, I understand, has a problem with the concept of 'consent'." Alland's accent, which had started as Fleet-neutral, slid to pure Throneworld. It contrasted with Luke's backwater Tatooine tones.

      Luke flushed. Garn grinned, reached out to tousle Alland's hair. It wasn't as bright a red as it had been when he had been in full "display", but definitely a change from the sandy Jedi she'd been with. "Damn, but you cleaned up nice. That aura... One of his tricks?"

      "A Jedi trick, yes. But not one I've had much call to use." Alland brushed the hair back into place.

      Luke stammered, "Hi-- his? Whose?"

      "The Emperor trained him, Luke."

      Luke drew Garn aside, frantically whispered, "What did he just do?"

      "Alland? The glow? The old Jedi used stunts like that to impress the ignorant with their powers. It's not nearly as effective if you know what it is. Although some of the old courting rituals used conspicuous displays like that, too."

      Luke was afraid to ask who Alland was trying to impress. Or court. He was afraid he already knew. Then Luke continued, "But you trust him? How do you know he's not here to spearhead an attack?"

      "The Emperor's dead. That information's not for distribution, Luke. We want to see how the news travels from the center."

      Luke looked back over at Alland, who was talking quietly with Vader. "Your new recruit's gay. Are you expecting to get any kids from him? That's the reason for bringing him with you, isn't it? Breeding stock?"

      Garn smiled quietly. "That's one reason. But he's also had Jedi training. He can teach."

      Alland looked over, approached Luke and Garn. "General Skywalker. I do not think my lord has any complaints of my service to him."

      At the word "him", Luke looked over at Vader, then back at Garn, who stood with a slight smile on her face. "Not so far, Commander Emmer, not so far. Luke, I believe they are waiting for us outside?

      On their way from Throneworld, Garn had asked Luke to have witnesses waiting.

      The ship landed in front of the House Vader compound. There was a sizeable crowd waiting -- Sith, former Imperial, and Alliance. "Satisfactory?"

      "Yes. Thank you."

      "He's really going through with it?" Leia asked.

      "Yes."

      Leia looked Garn up and down, "We can't help but trust you more than your predecessor."

      "Do you trust me?"

      "You risked your life, possibly your soul, to rescue me."

      "As did your father," Garn pointed out.

      Leia nodded. "But there is too much history behind him. You... perhaps not full trust, but more than with him."

      "I suppose that must serve." Garn smiled, "Two governments never trust each other fully, anyway -- nor should they. There's no difference here."

      The ramp ran from the airlock to the plaza. First Luke descended, to light applause, then Leia and an almost inconspicuous Alland (to more applause), finally Garn and Vader. The applause swelled, but subsided as the crowd noticed the weariness on the older man's face.

      The ceremony took mere minutes. Garn Anthru formally became High Lord of the Sith, and his predecessor knelt and swore fealty. Luke followed, as potential regent to the two-year-old Heir. Then Alland, managing not to get the least trace of dust on his uniform.

      The ranking Sith came next, the old, pure-blood families, then the former Imperials like Admiral Wychulis who had followed Vader into exile.

      Garn acknowledged Leia as a ranking member of an allied government -- a short speech. Leia was returning the courtesy when a wince on the senior Vader's face cut the ceremony short -- everyone rushed for the hospital.

      Vader was inspected by a human medic, who shook her head. "Rest. There's nothing else I can recommend for you, my lord." The medic glanced over at Garn. "I think you have a better attendant than I can provide."

      "Yes. I do." A faint, fond smile.

      Leia was closeted with a different medic -- the one who had helped deliver Garn's daughter Sorra -- for some time. He came out of Leia's room, making notes. "She's resting. You know what she's been through. I've repaired the physical damage... The men who assaulted her are dead?"

      Garn nodded. "The chief rapist, she helped kill herself."

      The medic nodded in turn. "That explains why she's held up so well. There is a sense of violation, yes, but not the rage over her helplessness so common in rape victims, not to the same degree."

     "Even as a prisoner, Leia was far from helpless," Garn agreed.

      The last stop was a genetics lab. Alland watched with interest as Garn combined germ cells. "I can make a fertilized egg nucleus with any two, as long as they both don't have a Y chromosome. You could be the father or the 'mother' of the child."

      Alland looked over the samples Garn had already put into cryo. "Host mothers?"

      Garn looked Alland up and down. "A host. Or a uterine replicator -- an artificial womb. Not the best choice for a Jedi child, but we have a limited number of Jedi adults available to carry." She thought about a pregnant Luke and rolled her eyes. "Very limited."

      "Indeed." Alland watched a combination where he was the father, the senior Vader the 'mother.' "I am willing, of course."

      "Of course."

     Home. Garn's daughter Sorra broke away from her keepers, leaping into Garn's arms. "Oh, my little love, how I missed you!" The toddler nuzzled into her mother's neck, close to the warmth of her mother's body.

      "Alland, Sorra was mine with Luke. The one I'm carrying now is Darth's. The next one I carry will be yours."

      Alland shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise, my liege."

      Habit of command: Garn started to cloud up at being balked. "And why not?"

      "Your carrying children uses up physical reserves you need for other duties. Make the cross, yes. But choose another host."

      Garn nodded. Sorra had fallen asleep. Garn slid her into a waiting bed, watched over by humans and droids.

      Garn and Alland stood outside one of the unassigned suites in the compound. "I'll have this one assigned to you. You have a free hand with Stores. Make yourself comfortable..."

     Alland interrupted gently, "My lord..."

      "Yes?"

      "A suite, close but not here, with at least five bedrooms. I expect to be fostering Jedi children for years. They don't need to be underfoot here, while you're trying to run a government."

      Garn turned to look at Alland. "And if I need your services myself, at night?"

      Dryly, "I am certain that the comm system here works at least as well as in the Fleet." Garn grinned in answer. Alland raised a hand to touch his temple, then Garn's. "Do you think I wouldn't know of the need? Or would fail to come at your call?"

      "I don't suppose you would ignore that, no." Alland's hand dropped to his side. His natural "at-ease" seemed to be almost a standard military pose of "attention." "You're too perfect. Has anyone ever tried to mess you up? To break you?"

      "It's been tried. Usually, I dodge. Twice, my assailant ended up in hospital."

      "And you weren't hurt?"

     Alland shrugged, "I heal quickly."

      Garn studied him. "I see. And if I prefer you ... dishevelled? Untidy? Not damaged, but..."

      "I think you would prefer the process to the result. Permit me the vanity of grooming myself afterwards, before I go outside private walls."

      "Certainly."

      "Are you bedding Leia?"

      Alland shook his head. "Not since the ship. I offered."

      Garn's eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

      "I thought it might ease her. But she saw my interest in Luke. She can't handle that."

      Garn felt muscles in herself relax that she hadn't know were tense. "Her loss." Garn grinned, "And Luke's. He's avoiding me right now. Afraid I'll insist on bringing you along."

      Alland shook his head. "We need to talk. All of us."

      "Why?"

      "Genetics. The gene pool among us is frighteningly small. "

      "I've often had thoughts on that. You significantly increased our possibilities, but... We desperately need to find more Jedi." Garn chewed gently on her lower lip. "Luke's been busy analyzing reports. Anything even remotely resembling Jedi activity, we check out.

      "And Leia has showed me archived records. The Jedi were murdered, but someone's old uncle might have been half-brother to a Jedi knight.

      "Your research... you didn't find any Jedi, or you'd have reported them to the Emperor. To be used by him, or destroyed." Garn's voice was suddenly flat.

      "I... did not completely explore my possibilities under his hand," he answered, lightly.

      Garn sighed in relief. "Good. If you need to travel, I'll get you any authorization you need, Sith or Alliance." Garn shrugged, "Not that those will do you any good if you fall into hands still loyal to the Empire, but..."

      Alland laughed. "I already have full authorization from the Emperor for such a project." He touched his tunic over the inside pocket. "Right here. I never went anywhere without it. Not that it will save me if the Imperial authorities catch me with the other docs, but... Then, I might have to do something drastic."

      Garn laughed, "Cocky. Do you have enough training to really threaten someone?"

      "I can get away. I consider that enough."

      Garn turned to study Alland. "How much training have you had?"

      Alland shrugged. "I don't know how to tell you. The Jedi had tests, but he never bothered with them."

      Garn arrived at the gym shortly after Alland did. Alland was wearing a standard military work-out suit -- lots of room to flex -- with foot-hugging shoes. Garn wore a loose robe, with no sign of what was under.

      A smile and Alland rose on his toes to kiss Garn on the cheek. "I'm ready for the test -- I think."

      "Peace, my friend. Calm. Doubts can kill you."

      Alland backed off, just a little. "Of course. I will compose myself." Eyes half-closed, breathing exercises... Alland relaxed, melting back into his perceptions of the Force...

      Alland turned slightly, facing the gym door just before it opened. Luke walked in. Alland straightened a little. "General Skywalker. Is there some way we might help you?"

      Garn, "He's here at my request. He will administer the tests." Alland's eyebrow rose. Garn asked, oh, so quietly, "Is there a problem?"

      "I do not question his... probity."

      "Good. Obi-Wan Kenobi left his memories with Luke. He is the one of us most familiar with the tests." A tilt of the head, "This is no one's final examination, my friend, nor competition for acceptance into the school. We're all in. We just have to see where the remedial classes are needed."

      Luke nodded. "I've prepared a test area. This way, please."

     Room. Just a table with two chairs on one side, one on the other. Luke took the solitary chair. "You're testing both of us?"

      Luke nodded, once. "As I was asked. Please. Sit." The other two sat. "First test." Ten smooth stones scattered randomly across the table. "Garn. Malibron."

      An instant's concentration. Garn reached out and touched a small grey rock. "This one."

      Luke nodded, "Yes. Commander Emmer? Throneworld."

      Faster than Garn's choice, since Alland knew the game. "You don't have to use my title, Luke."

      "As you wish. Garn. Pick one and name it."

      "The Sith world -- this stone."

      "Alland?"

      Alland looked up at Luke, then over at Garn. He moved a stone. "Alderaan. Pre-destruction."

      "Very good. Garn, choose a stone. Alland, point to it, label it."

      Not telepathy, but something more delicate. Alland had to detect where Garn's attention had touched... "That one. But what is it? I can't..."

      Luke smiled. "Synthetic. And it's a composite. I made that one myself. I took dust from every world I've visited, and, in hyperspace, I Force-welded it together."

      "It's unique."

      "Thank you. Now. Alland. Decide on a rock. Garn, which one?"

      "I gave the same tests to myself and Leia. There's one more set of data I should collect..."

     Garn raised her hand, "Don't bother him."

      "I don't intend to. But if you mention it to him and he's willing..."

      Luke threw charts up onto the viewer. "My theory is that unique items are talents rather than in learned skills. And most of the training comes from one teacher."

      A second chart. It started with Jeroen Palpatine. Under him was Vader and Alland. Beneath Vader was Garn. Garn's student was Luke, who taught Leia.

      A faint line rose from Luke's name to a block beside Palpatine: Kenobi. "Add that to Vader as well." Luke nodded and changed the chart. "And a third teacher." Above Garn was the name Sethon.

      "Who is that?"

      "My mother. When I was looking at the Kenobi memories to find tests, I found another block of memories that I hadn't seen before. I've only begun to access them, but apparently they've been filtering into my mind for years, without my noticing. That's how I did some of the things that surprised my teacher."

      "Which of your skills do you attribute to her?"

      Garn looked at the first chart, shrugged. "Nothing you tested us for. But you only ran the lowest level tests..."

      Alland sat back, smiling slightly. Garn remembered his remark about "probity." Luke answered, "The misunderstanding was on both our parts. You asked for 'standardized,' which were only ever the lowest levels. I can try to recall..."

      Garn raised her hand. "Later. Let's see what we have."

      Luke separated out a group of skills. "These are all related to piloting. Even if the training isn't formally Jedi..."

      He continued, "Our attack skills are wildly varying. Our defenses match all too well."

      Garn nodded. "Apprentices dodging Force-bolts from their Masters. Vader started by showing me the defense, then attacking with a mild version, then intensifying. Alland, I understand that you weren't shown the defense first."

      Alland winced. "Correct." He pointed at a cluster of strength he and Garn shared. "Communications. I was to listen. Both for his wishes, and for other Jedi."

      Garn turned and looked, surprised, at Alland. "Then you knew? You heard us enter the Citadel?"

      "Yes," he answered quietly.

      "And you sent the Emperor no warning."

      "No warning," Alland acknowledged.

      "If he had lived, and learned that..."

      Alland grimaced, "I could also hear Leia's screams. I couldn't stop him myself, but I could help you do it."

      Luke said, "You still risked a lot. Thank you."

      Alland took Luke aside, later. "I did nothing heroic in helping Garn and his father."

      "Don't lessen yourself, Commander. You know what the Emperor would have done if he had found out about your betrayal."

      "Exactly. My father was already very near the point where he would have thrown me out of my own body and taken it over for his own use. If he were killed in the rescue, I would have been saved. If not, my life would have been in no more danger."

      Luke shuddered. He remembered being afraid of being controlled by Vader, and not daring to risk being trained, but to be entirely displaced... "No, you really didn't have much choice."

      "That's why no warning. And why I don't think of myself as heroic."

      Alland's touch was light on her temple, and lighter within, on her mind. "You bear blocks of memories from other Jedi, but their structures are unknown to me."

      Garn turned her perceptions to where Alland looked. She found, as she expected, memories from Kenobi and Vader. And a third '"block," different in structure, and with a feminine feel. "Hm. Was this one of the Jedi techniques you were studying? Placing memories so they could take over the bearer?"

      A slight wince. His accent became more strongly Throneworld, away from the more neutral Fleet accent he used in public. That shift tended to happen whenever he was strongly reminded of his father. "Not voluntarily. The memory archive I bear was part of my father's preparations to leave his body and use mine instead. I've destroyed the 'takeover' trigger, and I've been carefully -- very carefully exploring those memories.  

      "The archives you're carrying don't have the 'takeover' mechanism." He grinned, "Your donors were a lot more benevolent than mine."

      Garn shrugged, "Well, yes, of course."

     "Can you access any of the memories directly?"

      Garn relaxed, let her Force perceptions lightly touch the third archive. What felt like a slight irregularity in the container... Garn pulled back, wary of what Alland had termed a 'trigger.' "Alland. What is this? A trap?"

      Alland tilted his head, as if he were studying a physical object. "It's the access port, yes. But there's no energy behind it, nothing that would reach out and attempt possession. The choice is yours, of course, because the risk is. But I judge the risk to be very small." He smiled, "Less than a routine jump into hyperspace."

      Garn nodded. "It feels different. Not just the structure, but the ... flavor? I don't have the technical vocabulary."

      "'Flavor' will do in this case. You mentioned your mother when we were charting the test results. This is her legacy. It feels different for two reasons: a female donor, and she was not trained by my father."

      The "portal" yielded easily to Garn's probe, but there was too much information stored for her to do more than lightly touch on it at once. "This is marvellous. I can hear my mother's voice murmuring. No distinct words, but reassurance, like I was a child starting on a voyage to somewhere new, with perils and wonders... but a voyage to somewhere she's already been."

      Alland nodded. "A good description of the life of a Jedi. Even the Master continues to explore, to study... to journey, if you will."

      Garn lightly probed the Vader memories. The warmth of her Master's affection for her was a constant underlayer. She giggled, startling Alland. "I almost passed this archive to Luke intact. That could have been most embarrassing."

      "I don't think so. The emotions are keyed to you. I don't feel them, even linked in with you." Thoughtfully, "There is the chance that a different set of feelings was left for Luke, since the creator knew you might share them."

      Mild alarm, "He wouldn't..."

      "Try to take Luke over? No. But acknowledge him as his son, emotionally, I think, he might have done that. Especially with Luke's daughter being your Heir."

      The Kenobi memories were more distant, almost like an e-doc. There was a distinct set of exercises for apprentice-level instruction. "This is where Luke picked up the other skills, the ones I didn't teach him."

      "Luke also mentioned that Kenobi had taught him before he met you, when they first met."

      "That was a matter of a few days at most. He had enough time to open Luke to the possibilities, but not enough for specific techniques. Especially one as useful as the disguise he used." Garn told Alland about Luke boarding Vader's ship.

      "I see your point," Alland said.

      He was silent while Garn sorted through the most easily-accessible areas in the Kenobi archives. Too silent. "You're worried. No, that's too strong. Concerned. You know that you're carrying -- " Garn shot a glimpse down at Alland's middle, grinned, but continued, " -- valuable information. You think you've removed its danger, but emotionally, you haven't convinced yourself."

      "'Worried' is not too strong a word. It's too weak. Frightened. Almost paralyzed with fear. And fear will be the key to releasing the evil. Which increases the fear."

      Command-voice -- no Jedi tricks, just the tones of one not used to being disobeyed, even by admirals. "Alland."

      Alland's head snapped back, his body straightened. "My lord."

      "Your father is dead. If you were his willing victim, he could still not take you. You are mine, not his. Do you hear me?"

      "My lord."

      "Your father's memories can wait to be harvested until after the others have been explored and distributed. By then, you will be stronger, and the memories will have lost some of their charge." She touched Alland's cheek, dropped back into her normal voice. "It's not like we have to restore the entire Jedi order by this time tomorrow -- or even next year. We need more Jedi, for one thing."

      Alland patted his middle, "I'm trying, but I can only work so fast."

      Garn relaxed, seeing that Alland's fear had at least been pushed aside, if not banished.

Miklinar grins, and you grin back. You ask, "The one he was carrying -- that was you."

 Mikli nods, "Yes. I'm afraid that I seriously dented Alland's vanity before I made my appearance. But I didn't slow him down when it counted."

 "Oh?"

 He nods again. "The next Tale is Alland's, almost all to himself. He risks himself -- and me -- to go back into Imperial territory to reclaim his research materials." Miklinar shakes his head, "Scientists. Still... So the next story is called 'Alland's Notes.'" 

On accent equivalents:

The Throneworld accent is a British accent -- think Kenobi/Tarkin.

 Fleet (or Fleet/neutral) is North American newscaster -- something with little character of its own, but very good for relaying information or orders. It's also the least like any specific planet, so all recruits are equally funny-sounding to each other. Then the Fleet irons out the regional, cultural, and economic differences, as any military does by clothing and haircuts and new behavior patterns.

Correllian is North American with a drawl. Solo has a heavy overlay of Fleet from his time in the service.

Sith...a lot of Fleet. Vader's people tend to join Imperial service (and old Republic service before the Empire), then come back home. But the old families sound like T'Pau in the original Star Trek series episode "Amok Time," especially her line, "Art thee Vulcan? Or art thee human?"

 If assigning accents other than these in your head to the characters helps, go with it.

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