Fic: when at last we knew (Star Wars)

[beatrice_otter]

Here is my Fic In A Box fic! I love Mace Windu, and also, he is a Jedi Master. I'm supposed to believe that being thrown out a window was enough to kill him? Yeah, sure, he got his arm chopped off. So did Luke at Cloud City. You will notice Luke didn't die.

Title: when at last we knew
Author: Beatrice_Otter
Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Kenobi
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mace Windu
Length: 10,993 words
Rating: teen
Written For: Huntress79 in Fic In A Box 2024

AN: Title comes from the poem An Old Story by Tracy K. Smith

On AO3. On Squidgeworld. On tumblr. On Pillowfort.

Military pilots never got sent on intelligence missions. At least, not if they had working ships. The Alliance had lost a lot of ships in close succession, first at Scarif and then at Yavin, at the same time as they'd started fighting the Empire directly instead of just the occasional ambush or hit-and-run attack on lightly defended targets. They were short on combat pilots, and even shorter on ships.

So Luke was very confused when he got a message to see General Draven and not tell anybody about it.

Draven was in charge of intelligence, and worked with Leia on coordinating her recruiting and supply missions, but Luke had never dealt with the man.

Draven's office was small, cramped, and very neat. No documents or displays were visible, which Luke supposed made sense; keeping things out of sight made snooping harder.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Luke asked.

"Yes," Draven said. "One of our oldest and most reliable intelligence channels has put in a request for you, specifically, to do the next handover."

"Why me?" Luke cocked his head. "How did they even learn my name?" The Alliance hierarchy had debated whether or not to use his name in propaganda about the Death Star before deciding that any gain wasn't worth the additional danger of the Empire's attention. That might change if he ever found a Jedi to train him.

Draven shrugged. "Word is beginning to get out, and it's trickling down our own intelligence channels first. Not all of them are as good at compartmentalization as they should be. As for why you … that wasn't part of the request. Just you, by name."

Luke thought about that. "They must be pretty important if you're taking me off combat runs to do it," he said.

"It would be good to keep them happy, and they've never made a request like this before," Draven said. "I'd like to know why now. If you can find out."

"Right," Luke said. "Who am I meeting?"

"I don't know," Draven said.

"You don't know?"

"Compartmentalization isn't just for lower-level operatives, Skywalker," Draven said. He shrugged. "All I need to know about an information channel is how reliable it is … and in all the years this channel has been in operation, their information has never been wrong, it's usually been useful, and it almost always arrives in time to act on it. It's mostly low-level information, but it's more reliable than any other source we have. It's worth some trust … and if something goes wrong, you'll have Captain Solo and Chewbacca to help you get out of it."

"Han and Chewie are coming along?" Luke asked. He frowned. "Why aren't they here for the briefing?"

"They don't need to know the details of your mission, only the planet and city where you will be meeting your contact," Draven said. "The fewer people who know the details, the less chance that something can leak."

"Han and Chewie are perfectly trustworthy!" Luke protested.

Draven snorted. "Everyone who knows you're the pilot who took down the Death Star is perfectly trustworthy. That hasn't stopped your name from floating around … and it's only a matter of time before it reaches the Empire, and puts a great big fat target on your back. The fewer people who know anything, the less chance there is that some careless accident will reveal it. You will not tell any of your friends any details of your mission, which are classified. You will not tell your squadron where you are going, merely that you have been detached for a classified mission and will return shortly."

***

"So, you can't tell us what you're doing, huh?" Han asked. "Not even now we're in hyperspace and on our way?"

They were sitting in the Falcon's crew lounge. Han and Chewie were playing holo-chess, and Luke was sitting at the nav station reading a book Leia had recommended.

"I'm afraid not," Luke said.

"I can tell you what we're doing," Han said. "The Alliance is paying us to deliver their cargo, and then we're supposed to scrounge something up for the trip back. Either a cargo that takes us close to the base, or something from the list of supplies the Alliance wants."

Chewie said something about paying off Jabba, and Han waved that off. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get to it, but we're nowhere near Tatooine or Nar Shadda or anywhere else he's got a base." He turned back to Luke. "Must be something real secret, if you won't even tell me."

Chewie objected to that, something about Luke showing proper respect for his mission, and Han and Chewie bantered back and forth about that until the buzzer went off that they were nearing their destination.

***

Dolsuf would have astounded Luke a year ago. Now he knew it was a fairly average colony world in the Inner Rim, with lots of agricultural space and lots of industry, the fruits of which were mostly shipped to the core. The port they settled in was one of thousands dotted across the planet, and while it wasn't in the largest city it was still a thousand times larger than anything they had back on Tatooine.

Following the instructions that had been written in the document Draven had handed him, Luke bought a pass for the public transit system and took an underground train to the theater district. (Fortunately, he had gone on leave with Wedge and Dak to Anamuu, and they'd had a subway system there, so he knew how to use it without having to ask Han for help.)

Luke wandered around like a tourist for several hours before slipping in the stage door at one of the smaller theaters, off the beaten track. Nobody challenged him, though several people were sitting in the small antechamber playing cards. He wandered the back halls until he found a door that led to the auditorium, and took a seat near the back.

The backstage area had been worn and threadbare, but the auditorium seats were plush, comfortable, and showed no signs of wear. The walls and ceiling were covered in ornamented carvings that Luke could make out only vaguely in the dim light.

The stage was brightly lit. Four people were on the stage, one of them demonstrating a movement. The other three watched intently, until one of them nodded and tried it himself. After a few comments back and forth, the first man nodded. He turned towards the front of the stage and walked towards the stairs down into the seating area.

This was probably his contact. Luke ran through the code phrase in his head for practice.

The actor was a human or near-human, probably late middle age, with dark skin and curly black hair, shot with gray. "We're flattered by the attention, but we're not open to the public yet," he said, stopping next to Luke's chair. "You can come back and see us tonight. We're doing The Cracked Word."

Yes, this was his contact. "I'm a spacer, shipping out in a few hours. Besides, King Nemlii has been a favorite since I was a kid." It wasn't as smooth as he'd like, but Luke didn't think he'd done too badly for his first undercover mission.

"Mace."

Luke bolted upright in his seat. That was Ben Kenobi's ghost—what was he doing here? Except he probably shouldn't have reacted—did that make him look suspicious?

The actor's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked off to the side, to about where Luke had heard Ben's voice from. Had he heard him? Could he see him? Luke sometimes thought he could, but wasn't sure if he was just imagining things. Ben was very faint.

"Well," the actor said, "if it's your favorite, I suppose we can make an exception. You might as well come up and watch from the front."

Luke got up and followed him down to the second row, and sat in the seat the actor indicated. He watched the rehearsal and tried to look as if he knew what was going on and was enjoying himself. Come to think of it, he should probably have looked up the play and what it was about, if it was supposed to be his favorite.

The actors on stage paid him no mind. After a bit, he shifted in his chair as unobtrusively as he could, and ran his fingers under the seat until he found the data rod taped there.

"The lead actor and director is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Ben said.

Luke didn't jump again, but only because he'd been expecting Ben to say something more. But he couldn't keep his face still at the revelation that here was a Jedi! Right in front of him! A real, live Jedi master! He wanted to pepper Ben with questions, but they were in public and he was undercover. He couldn't just start talking to thin air.

Luke looked down and put a hand over his mouth, so that maybe nobody would notice his reaction, or at least not enough to realize something interesting was happening.

"I thought he was dead," Ben said. "Killed by Darth Vader, when he tried to arrest Palpatine, the night Palpatine declared himself Emperor."

Luke wanted to hear more—a Jedi who'd challenged the Emperor directly! And almost died in the process! How had he survived Darth Vader?—but this wasn't the place for it. "It would be a lot easier to maintain my cover if you weren't saying shocking things," he muttered.

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry," Ben said.

Luke had been planning on leaving fairly soon—anyone watching would assume that he was needed back at his ship, or that he'd gotten bored—but there was no way he was leaving a real live Jedi Master. This had to be why he'd been requested specifically!

What was the Jedi Master doing, though? Surely, he could have helped the Rebellion more by joining up directly, rather than by simply feeding them information? Draven didn't know who he was, so he couldn't have done anything that would stand out.

Ben had spent twenty years hiding, but then, Ben had been watching over Luke. Was Master Mace Windu doing something similar? Were there other Jedi who survived, that Ben didn't know about? Luke was almost vibrating out of his skin, watching the rehearsal.

***

Mace had had decades of experience with galactic politics at the highest level, in addition to considerable practice at amateur theatrics, before the destruction of the Jedi. The two decades of being a fugitive, combined with subsequent professional acting, had polished his abilities to a high degree.

So it wasn't particularly difficult to keep his renewed grief off his face, as he concentrated on the rest of the rehearsal.

The young Force-sensitive in the audience, however, had no such abilities. Fortunately, his focus on Mace was obvious even from the stage, and so it didn't take much to nudge his fellow-actors' minds in a less-dangerous direction.

Force, but he was bright. Not powerful, necessarily, but in a way that suggested he'd never learned to shield himself, not even the rudimentary shields most Force-sensitives developed reflexively, if they lived in a populated area. His every thought and feeling was broadcast like a beacon—how had nobody ever noticed him? It was true, the Inquisitorius was not large; but they made up for it by travelling constantly. And the Jedi and Sith were hardly the only Force-users in the galaxy.

More to the point, how and why had Obi-Wan never taught him any better? As he was, Luke was dangerous to himself and to the people around him. Obi-Wan must have some sort of connection to him, to be haunting him.

Mace ached to know what had happened to Obi-Wan in the years since the fall of the Jedi; his ghost looked old, much older than Mace had ever seen him; he couldn't have been dead for very long. It grieved Mace to know that his old friend and colleague had been alive all this time. It would have been a joy beyond measure to know another Council member had survived, and a great relief.

"You're a bit out of it today, Gann, do you feel all right?" Kangan said.

Sixi snorted. "No, he's just distracted by the tail he's going to get when we're through here."

Mace rolled his eyes. He trusted his fellow actors, and Force knew they'd all proved themselves willing to turn a blind eye to his work, even not knowing what it was. Still. The less they knew the safer they would all be. "Have you ever known me to be distracted by a date? He reminds me of someone I used to know, that's all."

"Someone he used to know in the religious sense." Sixi's leer was predictable.

"I'd be more interested in your innuendo if you weren't trying to insert it into your portrayal of Prince Zirnzevan," Mace said.

"Hey, it could be there, he could be—"

"If you had any shred of textual evidence to back that up, you would have argued for it already," Mace said, dryly. "We're playing this one straight and traditional. He's driven by fear of loss, by grief, by the way his parents and tutors didn't understand him, and the deep scars that left behind. I think if you make it less about Duke Kostrom, that would help."

Sixi was nodding.

Mace continued. "Zirnzevan's actions really aren't about Kostrom, are they? They're about what's going on inside Zirnzevan's head. He's too deep in his pain and fear to really see Kostrom for what they really are. To see anyone for what they really are. Let's try the scene from the top."

***

It took forever, but at last the rehearsal was over. When the actors were done, Master Windu shooed them off the stage. One of them pointed to Luke, but Master Windu shook his head.

Windu ignored Luke, fiddling around with the sets and props for some time.

"He's waiting until everyone else has left," Ben said.

Which made sense; if he was a Jedi, he wouldn't want anyone to hear what they had to say to each other. Still, Luke was holding onto his patience by a thread by the time Windu finally climbed down off the stage.

"Are you really—"

Windu raised a hand. "I prefer to talk in more … private places."

"Oh," Luke said, chagrined. "Right."

"If you've got time for a meal, you're welcome to join me," Master Windu said.

"Of course!" Luke said. He hopped out of his seat. "Let's go!"

Windu got them both food from a market, and then led them to a small and unassuming hotel.

Once they were in Windu's hotel room, Luke opened his mouth to speak, but Windu held a hand up to stop him. "Please set out the food."

Luke took the bag of takeout, grabbed his patience with both hands, and got the cartons and silverware out of the bag.

Windu rummaged around in the bottom of one of his bags, pulling out a machine. It started playing a noise that Luke realized, after a few seconds, was rainfall with the occasional bird sounds. "We can talk a bit more freely, now."

"Is that a jammer?" Luke asked. "Are you worried that people are going to notice you bringing me here and think it's a spy meeting, or something?"

Windu smiled. "No, and no. If anyone was watching, what they saw was an actor bringing a visibly starstruck young person back to their hotel room. And then turning on a privacy box—cheap hotel rooms are notorious for having thin walls, so people who regularly spend a lot of time in them often have privacy boxes. They aren't quite as good at preventing intentional spying as a dedicated jammer, but they're much less obvious … and they're good enough for our purposes."

"Oh," Luke said, blinking. He hadn't thought of it that way, but it made sense. "Do we … need to do anything to sell the illusion?" He blushed, a little, at the thought of pretending to have sex for potential surveillance to overhear.

Master Windu laughed. "No, the privacy box is sufficient, as long as we speak quietly."

Luke nodded, relieved.

Windu gestured to the room's tiny table and chairs, and they both took a seat. "So," Windu said, "did you know you are being haunted by a Jedi ghost?"

"Yes, of course," Luke said. "Old Ben has been hanging around since he died. I can hear him, sometimes, and sometimes I think I can almost see him, but that might just be my imagination. He taught me how to feel the Force, and how to meditate."

"I see," Windu said. "Well. Usually I would beat around the bush for a bit longer to sound you out, but I think Obi-Wan fully proves your bona fides. I am Jedi Master Mace Windu, head of the Order."

"I'm Luke Skywalker—"

Windu's eyes went wide, and he reared back in his seat.

"Did you know my father?" Luke asked.

"Of course I knew your father," Master Windu said. "He was one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order, and one of the most troubled. He was the one who told us that Palpatine was the Sith Master we'd been hunting for. Then, after our attempt to arrest Palpatine had failed and Palpatine had slaughtered the other Masters with me, Anakin came to Palpatine's rescue, threw me out a window, turned to the Dark Side and joined the Sith, and then led the army into the Temple to slaughter everyone there."

At first Luke couldn't even understand what he had said. "No," he said, once the words had penetrated. "No, that's not right, my father was killed by Darth Vader." Or … had he been killed by Darth Vader after turning? Ben had told him a little bit about the Sith, how they were always betraying each other.

"I was there," Windu said gently. "I saw it happen. Obi-Wan was on Utapau. I was trapped on Coruscant, in the undercity, trying to heal and then save what I could and escape, for … a long time. I saw what Anakin did, as a Sith Lord. I felt his darkness. I have, once, fought an Inquisitor he trained. There is no doubt. Anakin Skywalker is still alive, and he is a Sith Lord."

"That can't be true," Luke said.

"I am sorry." Windu's voice was warm with compassion, but it was also implacable and unyielding. Windu had no shred of doubt he was speaking the truth.

Luke reached out with the Force, as best he knew how. As Ben had trained him to. (But could he trust Ben—Obi-Wan? Had Obi-Wan lied to him?) But the Force answered him, with a finality that reverberated through him like a bell: Master Windu was telling the truth.

"Ben, why did you lie to me?" Luke's voice was choked, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, but he got the words out.

"Luke, has Ben taught you how to release your emotions to the Force?" Windu asked.

"What?" Luke felt like he was swimming through water, as he turned to look at Windu.

"When Jedi are in the grip of some strong emotion, there are ways to release that emotion into the Force," Windu said. "This gives us a clear head, and a heart that is not distracted."

"Distracted?" Luke's breath sped up. He wanted to shout, but he couldn't—someone might hear. "Distracted? Ben lied to me!"

"We don't know that yet," Windu said. "There are a great many hard truths that we must face—truths filled with death, and pain. There are harsh things that must be said. It is very easy, in such times as this, to be guided by our emotions: to let our fear and anger and confusion and pain goad us into saying and doing things that we later regret."

Luke wanted to rage, but … Uncle Owen had often said something similar (though less poetic), when Luke was upset. He'd been right, though the simple childhood fights he'd been talking about paled in comparison to this betrayal. "All right."

"First, let's eat our food, before it gets cold," Windu said.

Luke nodded; Aunt Beru would have said something similar. Everything's harder on an empty stomach. He took a bite of his wrap. It tasted like sand, but he knew better than to waste food. His body needed the fuel. He took a sip of his drink.

"What's your favorite food?" Windu asked.

"What?" Luke frowned.

"Your favorite food," Windu repeated. "Mine's Eoffo pudding. Best place I've ever had it was a little food cart tucked away in Hithol City on Scanu. It was so tender, it felt like it melted in my mouth. And I don't know what that person did with the gravy, but it was amazing."

"Oh," Luke said. He tried to think. "A nerf burger, I guess. Correllian-style."

They talked about inconsequential things until the food was done, and by the end of the meal Luke had relaxed a little bit. They put the containers in the recycle chute, and Windu gestured for him to sit on the bed cross-legged with him.

Windu walked him through a basic meditation. It was a little harder than usual for Luke to get into the trance, but he got there.

"Good," said Windu. "Now, feel your body. Where are your emotions, in your body, right now?"

Luke's stomach was roiling, and his breath kept wanting to speed up, and his body didn't quite feel real, but he did his best. Windu led him through the parts of the body, and helped him to notice how each one felt, and what it meant to him.

"Name your feelings to yourself, even the ones you aren't comfortable with," Windu said.

Luke resisted. He didn't want to. Didn't want to face how Ben had betrayed him. (Didn't want to face the ruin of his hopes and dreams.)

Windu waited for him, and Luke tried, a bit, but there were things he couldn't face.

"Now look up to the Force," Windu said, and led his attention outward. It was as deep as a starry night in the desert, as warm as a sun and cold as the void. Luke himself was barely a pin-prick within it.

"Let it pass through you like a wave, and carry away with it all that you don't need."

Luke had seen waves, now; Rogue Squadron had had leave on a planet with an ocean and beaches, once, and he'd played in the shallows while a few of his squadron had surfed. He pictured one of those sweeping through him. Not enough to knock him off his feet, but enough to tumble him around a bit and scour him clean.

"And now, we come back to ourselves," Windu said.

Luke opened his eyes.

"Do you feel better?"

Luke considered. "Yeah?" he said. "I'm still hurt, and confused, and angry, though."

Windu smiled. "Jedi are not computers, Luke, and even computers can have emotions. The point is not to be rid of our emotions; the point is not to let them overwhelm us. If we're so wrapped up in our own feelings, we can't hear the Force. Or we'll hear what we want to hear, and tell ourselves it's the Force."

"Does that happen often?" Luke asked. "The Force is so much bigger than I am—than any Jedi is."

"But we can only sense it through our own selves," Windu said. "The Force is vast, but often subtle or nuanced. Or obscured. The louder our own wants and fears are, the harder it is to hear the Force … and the easier it is to convince ourselves that our own reactions are the Force prompting us. This is why Jedi must strive for peace within ourselves, and self-knowledge. Great power and sensitivity to the Force will not prevent our own self-deception."

"Oh," Luke said.

"On a more prosaic note, overpowering emotions also prevent us from hearing and understanding others," Windu said. "So now that we are both a bit more centered, let us ask Obi-Wan for his side of the story."

He unfolded his legs and turned so that his back was against the wall. "So. Obi-Wan. Did you know that Anakin Skywalker fell to the Dark Side?"

"Of course he—"

Windu held up his hand. "He wasn't there."

Luke opened his mouth to object again, but Windu spoke over him.

"Things were very tumultuous, and there was no chance to meet afterwards and piece together what had happened. Our entire world was destroyed in the space of a few hours. I've no idea how he escaped. I've no idea what he suffered, what he did, to survive. Neither do you. And neither of us will learn, if we do not listen."

Luke pursed his lips together, but nodded. He took a deep breath and settled himself in a more comfortable position. Ben had sacrificed his life to help Luke and the others escape; he'd helped Luke take down the Death Star. Luke should at least listen to hear what he had to say.

Windu nodded. He turned to the wall where the table was. "So. Obi-Wan." He nodded as if he could see him.

Obi-Wan told his story: being shot down by his own men, meeting up with another Jedi Master named Yoda, slipping into the Temple and watching with horror as his apprentice whom he loved like a son bowed to a Sith Lord.

Luke could hear the pain in his voice. He could almost smell the charred flesh, like his last day on Tatooine, discovering the bodies of Uncle Own and Aunt Beru. He shook his head. That didn't justify lying. Not about something this big.

But the story didn't end there. Ben had gone to his mother—a Senator! A former queen!—and told her what had happened, then followed her as she went to confront his father. How his father had attacked her, hurt her, how Obi-Wan had intervened. How they had fought, and his father had lost.

"I know I should have … finished him," Obi-Wan said, voice broken with pain. "It was cruel to leave him to die that way, and if I had, Palpatine couldn't have found him and saved his life. But I couldn't. I knew that I should—I've killed Sith Lords before, I knew how dangerous they were, I knew that they can sometimes survive things you wouldn't believe possible. But I couldn't do it."

Luke tried to imagine it. Fighting someone he loved. Knowing someone he loved was capable of that much evil. If it had been Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru, or Biggs, or Leia, or Han—could he have killed someone he loved, even if they'd done that much evil? He didn't think so. He hoped he wouldn't—but was that even the right thing to hope for? How many people would have been saved if Obi-Wan had finished Anakin then and there? (How many people would have been saved if his father had listened to his mother, and turned away from the Dark Side?)

(How many would have been saved if his father had never fallen in the first place?)

If Luke had had to kill someone he loved, or tried and failed to kill them, how would he have lived with himself afterwards? Obi-Wan's reputation as a crazy old man—a ghost haunting the sands—made a horrible sense.

But it still didn't explain the lie.

"I went back to the ship—the droids had loaded Padmé aboard—and took her to a discreet medical facility Bail Organa knew of. But it was too late for Padmé. She died. The droids couldn't find anything wrong with her—they fixed what he did, it was a simple injury. The birth was … no worse than usual. I've always wondered: was there something wrong with the droids? Was it something an experienced healer would have caught? Did Anakin do something to her with the Force, something more than merely choking her? Or was it something Palpatine did, some sort of Sith magic—she would have been a threat to him, to his control of his apprentice, to his Empire, if she'd lived. Might a Jedi skilled in healing have been able to save her?"

"Those are all reasonable questions," Mace said, his voice warm. "But … Obi-Wan, you know how useless it is to dwell on things that can't be changed. To center your thoughts in the past, rather than in the present."

"I know, Mace." Luke couldn't see Obi-Wan, but he sounded exhausted. Weary, with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. "I've known that for eighteen years. But I was never able to make myself do it. Could you, if it were Depa?"

"Depa was my last apprentice, before the war," Mace told Luke. "I don't know. I hope I would have been able to. I'm sorry you were alone, that there was nobody to help you carry that burden."

"I didn't know anyone else had survived, besides Yoda," Obi-Wan said.

"More survived than you'd think," Mace said. "Jedi are very hard to kill. And there are a lot of people, across the galaxy, who didn't believe Palpatine's lies even at the very start."

This was all very interesting, and at any other time Luke would have been thrilled and fascinated to learn that other Jedi had survived. "You haven't said why you lied to me, Ben."

"It's what he told me, himself," Ben said. "I fought him, once, a decade after he fell. He said Anakin was dead, that he had killed him, that there was nothing left but Darth Vader."

Windu scoffed. "The Sith are masters of deception, including self-deception. He may have believed that; it doesn't make it true."

"Why would he say that, though?" Luke said. "It's obviously not true!"

"It can be true on a metaphorical level," Ben said.

Windu sighed. "He lies to himself about it because that is part of the way Sith manipulate themselves and their apprentices, to keep them tied to the Dark."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"When someone chooses the Dark Side, it is very difficult to turn back from it, and they will be forever changed by their experiences," Windu said. "They will always be plagued by it. But it is possible to turn back … and no Sith master would wish his apprentice to do so. There are several things they do to make it less likely. One is to demand, at the very beginning of the apprenticeship, a task so heinous that it severs every tie the apprentice has and causes them to hate themselves for doing it."

"But if they hate themselves, won't that make them more likely to change?" Luke asked.

"The opposite, I'm afraid," Windu said. "It means that they have a driving motivation to never question their allegiance to the Dark, or what was it all for? If they ever do try to come back to the Light, they must face the evil thing they have done. As long as they continue to choose the Dark Side, they can see it as justified or right or necessary, or simply expedient. In the Light, they can see clearly that it was none of those things. If they can't imagine forgiveness or redemption or even new life is possible … they have every reason to cling to the Dark.

"As for the name, that is similar," Windu went on. "Anakin was a person with friends, a community, a commitment to the Light Side of the Force and the Jedi Order. Anakin had people who cared about him, people who might have held him to account, people who might have walked with him along the path out of the darkness … if he hadn't killed them. Darth Vader has none of those things. If he is not Anakin Skywalker, then he has no connections to Anakin Skywalker's life, no connections other than those he has made through the Sith and the Dark Side. If he is not Anakin Skywalker, then the terrible things he did to Anakin Skywalker's people are no tragedy to him."

"Do you think it's possible for him to turn back to good?" Luke asked, startled. Could his father be saved? His mother had thought so, even after he'd attacked her.

"In the Force, all things are possible," Windu said. "But that is not the same as probable. And it is not a choice anyone can make but Anakin himself. He began his fall with one great evil act, and he has committed countless more ever since. He has tried to kill everyone who reached out a hand to him, to offer help returning to the Light. Including those who loved him, and whom he loved. He must choose his own path—and whether or not he can live with what he has done. You can't choose it for him."

Luke nodded. Leia would have said the same thing. Had said the same thing, about Han. Han had come back, had joined the Rebellion, but not because of anything Luke had said or done. Because he'd chosen to do the right thing.

***

As Luke lost himself in thought, his emotions kept roiling.

Mace hid a wince. He'd have to teach the young man to shield himself as soon as he could; how had Obi-Wan not taught Anakin Skywalker's son to shield? If anyone had found him, he would have been the most important pawn in the galaxy, with dire consequences for Luke himself and everyone else.

But with Luke distracted, there was time for Mace to ask the questions he most cared about, without interruption. He centered himself in the Force, and asked it if this was a safe conversation to have. He felt no danger, saw no shatterpoints other than the remnant of the one that had broken when he had first seen Obi-Wan's ghost and Luke. "You said that Yoda survived the initial few days after Palpatine's rise. Is he still alive?"

The ghost nodded. "Yes. He secluded himself on an uninhabited planet called Dagobah. It has a large swamp, and in that swamp is a cave with a vergence in the Force—a Dark one. From a distance—"

"From a distance, it would conceal all trace of him in the Force, even in visions," Mace said, nodding. "And there would be nothing to draw anyone to an uninhabited planet."

"And a swamp is the most comfortable habitat for him," Obi-Wan said. "At least in so far as a solitary retreat in the wilderness can be comfortable."

"I can see why he made that choice—he was always a very distinctive person, easily recognized—but secluding himself that way meant there was no chance of the Force leading him to me or to any other Jedi," Mace said. "It's a pity. We could have used him."

"Other Jedi?" Obi-Wan sounded startled, as surprised as a ghost could be.

"Nobody you know," Mace said. "Nobody who Palpatine or Anakin would have considered notable. A few who escaped when their battalions turned on them, or who were never involved directly in the war. A few Corps members. A few young Force-sensitives we've rescued from bad situations."

"Where are they?" Obi-Wan asked. "They're obviously not in your acting troupe."

"We have a hidden enclave," Mace said. And he wasn't about to say more than that without better security, even with the Force telling him they were safe for the moment. "But several of us travel around in various guises, looking for survivors, or for Force-sensitives in danger, or for … useful things. Sometimes we find information that would be useful to the Alliance, or to other groups that are working against the Empire, and I pass it along."

"An enclave," Obi-Wan said. "With other Jedi, and younglings to train in safety." He, of course, had no need to worry about security; only a trained Force-sensitive would be able to perceive his words.

"Training?" Luke said. He had all the eagerness of a young tooka. "Could I come? Obi-Wan's been doing his best, but … as a ghost, it's hard."

"You could," Mace said. "It would be a hard path; becoming a Jedi is no easy thing, and—" he shook his head. "Normally, this would be the point where I tell you all about the danger of becoming a Jedi, with the Empire seeking us out to kill us. But given who your father is, and that you're apparently using his name?"

Luke nodded.

"I can't see that training you would put you in any more danger than you're already in, just by existing," Mace said. "And learning to hear and use the Force would be a great ally in staying safe and out of Palpatine's clutches."

***

Much as Luke wanted to begin his training immediately, it simply wasn't possible. Mace had never brought a lover along on one of their tours, and Luke's cover as a theater-loving spacer wouldn't last through a two-second conversation with anyone who knew theater. Moreover, Luke had to see to it that the intelligence Mace had gathered reached the Alliance in a timely fashion.

"You could tell me the name of the planet and I could make my way there by myself," Luke pointed out.

Mace stared at him. "I am not saying the name out loud. Not even if we had a proper stealth generator running."

"If I can't hang out with you until the tour is over and you go to the enclave yourself, and you won't tell me the name of the planet, how am I supposed to get there?"

He was a very impatient young man, Mace noted. "I'm not sure you should go there. If your father doesn't know of your existence already, he soon will—and he will be searching for you in the Force. If he had a vision of you, and could make out any identifying marks of the enclave in that vision, he might be able to track it down. I can't put everyone else at risk."

"Perhaps he should go to Yoda, on Dagobah," Obi-Wan suggested.

"Yoda hasn't taken an apprentice in over a century," Mace pointed out. "And he has never trained an adult who did not grow up within the Temple." And his given the failures of the line of that last apprentice—three who had chosen the Darkness, two of whom became Sith—Mace wasn't sure he was the best choice for Luke.

"Over a century?" Luke said. "How old is he?"

"Somewhere around the 900 years," Mace said.

"He is one of the greatest Jedi to ever live," Obi-Wan said. "He has trained countless generations of Jedi."

"Oh," Luke said, voice filled with awe.

"All of which experience took place in the old Republic," Mace said. "Things are different, now." He considered what Luke might find interesting and relevant. "Your father was brought to the Jedi at the age of nine. We almost turned him away—did turn him away, at first—because he was too old."

"Too old? At age nine?" Luke was appalled.

Mace nodded. "There are advantages to training a child starting when they are a youngling. It ensures that they are part of our culture, and grow up understanding and living by the tenets of our religion, and minimizes the bad habits they will have to unlearn. People who had Force-sensitive children, but who were not themselves part of a Force-sensitive tradition, would often give their children to us." He shook his head. "It is not the only way Jedi have been trained, over the millennia, because our history is ancient. But it is the way Jedi have been trained for the last thousand years. It caused problems with your father—he was so very different from what we were used to. We expected him to adapt, and when he struggled in ways that someone who had come to the Temple younger would not have, we did not know how to help him—and some did not even try."

Mace spread his hands. "It is something I think about often; all of the people we are currently training are older than Anakin was, when he became a Jedi. And we don't have the resources or support that we did then. We have had to adapt. We have learned a great deal. Yoda has trained more Jedi than anyone else in the history of the Order, that we know of."

"But he's been all alone for the last eighteen years," Luke said. "He hasn't learned what you've learned." He sat back, looking thoughtful.

"What do you suggest?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Luke goes back to his base, arranges for leave, and goes to Dagobah."

"But you said—"

"I continue on with the troupe through this engagement," Mace said, "and possibly the next, and then once there's no obvious connection with Luke, I announce that I found another gig and will be taking leave of the company for a while. I join you. It will be … a gift beyond price, to see him again, and we can see what he needs, and what you need."

***

Once Luke had left to go back to his ship, Obi-Wan turned to Mace. "Why did you make such a fuss about Yoda, if you were just going to tell him to go to Dagobah anyway?"

"He idolizes the Jedi, doesn't he?" Mace said.

"I suppose so."

Mace nodded. It had always happened; even at the height of the Order's powers, they were a tiny percentage of the galaxy's population, and the vast majority of people would never see a Jedi in their entire lives. That, plus their abilities, and their role as peacekeepers and bringers of justice, led to a certain amount of myth-making. Their destruction had only heightened that tendency, among people who didn't believe Palpatine's lies. "He can't possibly learn to be a good Jedi himself until he unlearns that, and can see us clearly, both good and bad. We do not want blind obedience. We want a mature Jedi who can see clearly, and learn from the mistakes of the past."

Obi-Wan shifted. Mace narrowed his eyes. He knew that movement; it was guilt. "Unless you do want blind obedience. Why did you lie about his father? Guilt and grief and believing Sith lies can't be the only reason."

"He may idolize the Jedi now, but he's idolized his father all his life," Obi-Wan said. "At best, it will be a distraction. At worst … he will refuse to do what he must. And then we will have no hope left. No hope to save the galaxy; no hope to protect your enclave."

Mace considered this. The deception stank of the worst mistakes the Jedi had made, during the war and in the years leading up to it. Sacrificing ethics for expediency. But he couldn't see the reason for it. "What do you think he 'must' do?"

"Kill Vader," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin, if you prefer. As I should have done, and failed to do."

"Skywalker?" Mace shook his head. "What does that matter? Why would killing the apprentice save either the galaxy or the enclave?"

Obi-Wan's ghost frowned at him. "Vader is more powerful than Palpatine, and the one who has directly slaughtered both the Jedi and countless others. If the enclave is discovered, Palpatine will not come destroy it himself; he will send Vader."

"And if Skywalker is killed, Palpatine will simply replace him with a new apprentice and nothing will change," Mace pointed out. He rubbed his forehead. Obi-Wan had let his attachment to his former apprentice blind his reason. It was understandable, but Mace would have thought that eighteen years to think about it would have given him time to clear his mind. "What would happen if Palpatine were killed, and Vader were left alive?"

"Then Vader would rule in his stead, and take an apprentice, and there would still be two Sith plus whatever acolytes and inquisitors Vader chooses to train."

Mace shook his head. "What, in all the things you know about Anakin Skywalker, implies to you that he would be able to keep the Empire together and rule it?"

"He would kill anyone who tried to defy him," Obi-Wan said.

"No government, not even the Empire, can rest solely on fear of punishment," Mace said. "Particularly not fear of one man. It's true, he could and would slaughter anyone who displeased him, but consider: he can only be in one place at a time. Expanding his powers beyond what he, personally, can be present for requires people to cooperate with him when he is not present. The galaxy is large. Even as a Jedi, Anakin possessed little understanding of politics, and less patience for it. Palpatine rules because, regardless of his considerable skill with the Force, he is an excellent politician. He is very good at getting people to cooperate with him and do what he wants, because he understands what they want and how to manipulate them because of it. Anakin has no such skills. At least he had none when he was a Jedi. Do you think that eighteen years as a Sith will have taught him patience and understanding?"

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Hardly."

"It would devolve quickly into civil war," Mace said, "as other high Imperial officials grabbed for power and tried to either unseat him entirely or break away their own fiefdoms. This would be very hard on the galaxy, and would cause great suffering and death. But it would also provide an opportunity for worlds to free themselves from the Imperial yoke. Not ideal, but better than Imperial rule in the long run." He waited for Obi-Wan to nod.

"As for the enclave, Vader and any apprentice he took would be far too busy trying to maintain their power to come after us," Mace went on. "We'd be safer than we have been since he fell."

He thought about Obi-Wan's reactions, the things he had done since the fall of the Jedi. They had only just begun to scratch the surface of what had passed; there would be many hours of conversation, of meditation, before either would know what the other had lived well enough to understand or judge their decisions.

But it seemed to Mace that Obi-Wan had never considered the possibility that the Jedi might have a future, not just a past. He had thought a great deal about how to kill his old apprentice, but if he had put any at all into what would happen after, it had yet to come up. He certainly hadn't given Luke even the most rudimentary training that might prepare him to carry on the Jedi legacy. And given Luke's excitement at meeting Mace, that lack could not have been Luke's idea.

Had Obi-Wan been trapped, in his head, in those last, few, terrible days? Mace ached at the thought. He himself had spent … a long time, trapped in his own pain, both physical and emotional, and the grief within him was a deep well of sadness that would always be a part of him.

But Mace had, eventually, learned to live. He had crawled out of the hovel in Coruscant's lower levels where he had holed up. He had gathered together what few survivors he could find who had managed to escape the Temple, and they had gotten each other offworld. He had had to set aside his pain enough to function, or they would never have made it. And by the time they had reached a place the Force told them was safe to settle down, and made it habitable, and had time to properly grieve—the worst of it had been behind him.

Behind them. Because they'd had each other to lean on.

Obi-Wan had been alone.

"Why didn't you stay with Yoda?" Mace asked, quietly.

"I—" Obi-Wan broke off, as if he hadn't thought of it. "I had to take Luke to his family, and then watch, to make sure Vader didn't follow. To be there to defend them if he did."

"Were you hoping he would?" Mace asked. "Was that why you let him keep the name, and put him with Anakin's family?" It would be an excellent way to lure Vader in, so Obi-Wan could kill him as he had failed to the first time. But an awful risk for Luke and his family.

"No," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't expect Vader would ever come to Tatooine. He always hated the place, and it has no value to the Empire."

"Did you stay with Luke's family?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Even if I had wanted to intrude, Owen held the Jedi responsible for what happened to Anakin, what he had become. He wanted to protect Luke."

The 'from me' went unspoken, but Mace heard it anyways.

"What did you do?"

"I retreated into the desert."

"Did you have anyone?"

"I was alone." There was a wealth of pain in those words.

"I'm so sorry," Mace said.

"I didn't have to be," Obi-Wan said. "I could have rented a room in Anchorhead or Mos Eisley. But I couldn't bear to be around people."

If Obi-Wan were still alive, and had a body, Mace would have asked if he could hold him, physical comfort for both of them. He would have asked if they could meditate together.

But Obi-Wan was dead, and all they could do was sit together in silence.

***

"Hey, kid, you're kinda quiet."

Luke looked up to Han, who was standing over him. Luke hadn't even noticed him and Chewie come into the crew lounge. "Huh? Oh. Yeah."

"Everything okay? Nothing happened? You weren't gone that long."

Chewie yowled that Luke could find trouble in no time at all.

"You said it, Chewie." Han spread his hands. "Okay, what's wrong?"

Luke hesitated. Besides the Alliance's own classification of the intelligence source, he'd been sworn to secrecy about Mace and the Jedi. He trusted Han, of course, but the fewer people who knew, the better. He realized there was one thing he could say.

"I met someone who knew my father," he said slowly.

"You're not looking like that's a good thing." Han slid into the chair across from Luke.

Luke heaved a sigh. "Depends on what you mean," Luke said. "I learned the truth."

"Which is …?" Han trailed off, inviting Luke to speak.

"He's still alive," Luke said.

"And you're sitting here looking like the world is ending, so I'm guessing it's not that easy."

"Ben lied to me," Luke said. "Anakin Skywalker wasn't killed by Darth Vader. He became Darth Vader."

Chewie yowled something Luke had no hope of understanding.

"The Emperor's enforcer?" Han said. "The guy who personally slaughtered three whole brigades on Rorlun IV? That guy?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "That's the guy."

Han swore. "And Ben didn't tell you that maybe you should change your last name, or at least not go around telling people your father was Anakin Skywalker? If Vader hears about you, I got no idea how he'll react but it can't be good."

"I know."

Chewie asked why Ben had lied to him, and Luke sighed. "I don't know. They were very close, and Ben's kind of messed up about the whole thing."

"He's dead, kid," Han pointed out. "Maybe he was messed up about it, but he's not anything, now."

"His ghost hangs around," Luke said. "Sometimes he talks to me."

"His ghost?" Han's voice dripped with disbelief. "I hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing as ghosts."

Chewie said there were enough weird things in the galaxy that he wasn't willing to deny the possibility of ghosts, especially not where Jedi were concerned.

"Chewie—" Han said.

Chewie reminded Han that it was rude to call someone crazy, especially a friend, and unless Han could prove ghosts didn't exist, he shouldn't give Luke a hard time about it.

Han waved a hand, but gave up on arguing with Chewie. "So. You're hearing voices."

"Just the one voice," Luke said. "And the more I practice meditating and other things he taught me, the more clearly I hear him."

Han made a face.

"Once I knew who my father really was, Obi-Wan talked about him, a bit," Luke said. "He killed my mother. He led the attack on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Obi-Wan fought him, and won—but couldn't bring himself to kill him. Just left him for dead."

"Was this … ghost … the one who told you your father was Darth Vader?"

Luke shook his head. "No. But please don't ask me who did, or tell anyone about it."

"Was it your contact?" Han asked. "Was that why they wanted you, specifically? How do you know they were telling the truth?"

"I could feel it in the Force," Luke said. "I didn't want to believe it, but as soon as they said it I knew it was true." He hunched over.

He could tell Han was skeptical, but didn't argue about it. "I'm sorry kid. "That must have been rough."

Luke nodded.

They sat there in silence for a bit. Luke couldn't think of a thing to say.

***

Draven's office felt strange.

It took Luke a moment to realize it wasn't because the office had changed, but because he had changed. Or, no, he hadn't; but the things he knew about himself, his family, and his past had changed. But Draven's office—the whole Alliance—was still the same.

"Here's the data, sir," Luke said, handing the chip over.

"Anything I need to know that's not on it?" Draven asked. "That won't compromise the identity of the agent?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "You know that my father was the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker?"

"I believe it's been mentioned a few times," Draven said dryly.

"It turns out he didn't die with the rest of the Jedi," Luke said. He closed his eyes. "He turned to the Dark Side, and hunted them instead." He didn't want to tell anybody, but if his father could have a vision of him and see what planet he was on, Draven needed to know. It was a security breach.

"He became an Inquisitor?" Draven's voice was carefully neutral.

"No." Luke took a breath, and let it out. "He became Darth Vader."

Draven was quiet for a while. Luke looked down at his hands. He didn't want to see the look on Draven's face, and he was glad he hadn't learned yet how to sense other peoples' emotions in the Force.

"Is that absolutely confirmed?"

"Yes."

"Shame we didn't know earlier," Draven said. "But it's too late to change your name at this point. Still, I can think of ways to use it."

"I'd rather it not become common knowledge," Luke said.

"Of course," Draven said. "Do you know whether he will be interested in a relationship with you, or capturing you, once he learns?"

"I have no idea." Luke sighed. "He killed my mother."

"So we can't count on any family feeling protecting you," Draven said. "Well, I wouldn't have imagined that was possible in any case."

"It's possible that he might be able to have a vision in the Force, that might give him enough identifying information to figure out where I am."

"That will be harder to deal with," Draven said. "Though—is there any way to send him a vision on purpose?"

Luke frowned. "I have no idea. Why?"

"So we can mislead him, or lure him into a trap," Draven said.

"I … don't know, I'll let you know if I find out," Luke said.

"Good." Draven nodded decisively. "Anything else?"

"I'm going to have to take some leave to—" Luke remembered he wasn't supposed to mention living Jedi just in time "—deal with … things." He finished lamely.

"We'll be sorry to miss you," Draven said. "You're a good pilot, and we need every fighter we can get. But it will make security easier, if Vader can indeed get details—any details at all—of wherever you are."

"Yeah," Luke said. "What's—how do I—I don't know who I need to talk to, about arranging for it?"

"Your squad leader," Draven said. "But don't tell them why, if you don't want rumors about your parentage floating around."

Luke nodded.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea," Luke said, helplessly. How long did it take to become a Jedi? Could he do it part time—a few months with Masters Yoda and Windu, then a few months of missions with the Alliance, then back to training? Surely Master Windu couldn't take too much time off from his travels with his company, if that was how he found Jedi and information.

"Then the question is, how will you find us again when you are ready to come back? We don't make ourselves easy to find, and you know how little communication we allow with outsiders."

Luke nodded again. "I know how to get ahold of Princess Leia, if I have to. And Han, as long as he sticks around." He was always threatening to leave, and Luke wasn't sure if he'd stay without Luke. Also, Master Windu regularly passed information to the Alliance. Even if Leia was out of contact for some reason, and Han had left, Master Windu could get him back in contact.

"Very well," Draven said. "Then may the Force be with you, Skywalker."

***

"If Vader can sense your presence and may be able to track you down, then surely the best place for you is to stay with the Alliance," Leia said, matter-of-factly. She'd taken the news of his parentage with a flinch, but had collected herself with the sort of iron control he'd admired her since the first barb she'd thrown at him when they met.

"I don't want to put you all in danger," Luke protested.

"Whoever you're around will be in danger, if Vader decides to come after you," Leia said. "Nobody else has a prayer of stopping him. The Alliance has a better shot at it than anyone else in the galaxy—and if we could kill Vader, that would be a huge boon for us."

"She's got a point, kid," Han said.

"I know," Luke said. "But I have things I have to do."

"I hope you're not planning to rush off and confront him," Leia said grimly. "At best he'll kill you. At worst … you don't want to know what he does to prisoners. Or what the Emperor does."

"I'm not," Luke said. "This is … something else."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "You've found a Jedi to train you, haven't you."

"How did you—" Luke broke off with a blush as he realized he'd just confirmed it to her. "You can't tell anyone," he said, eyeing them both.

"No, I fully understand," Leia said. "Any Jedi who has survived this long hasn't done it by being careless with their security. I won't betray you—or them. Neither will Captain Solo." She shot him a glare.

"Cross my heart, I won't even tell Chewie," Han said. "Want me to give you a lift?" Han asked. "If you're so determined to go."

Luke shook his head. "I'm supposed to go alone. I need a ship, I won't be able to book passage."

"I'll arrange for a shuttle," Leia said. "We have more of them, proportionally, than any other ship. But it may take a while for one to be free."

***

The moisture in the air rushed in to beat Mace in the face as soon as he opened the hatch, but he ignored it. The Dark vergence clouded his perceptions, but it was only a little worse than the state of the general galaxy.

It took a few seconds of scanning the swamp before he saw Yoda, sitting on a rock to the side of the ship.

Mace drew in a breath. Yoda had aged more than Mace would have expected. A great deal more. "My old friend, it is good to see you." His throat was choked with emotion.

"Yes," Yoda said.

Mace went to him, knelt before him, and embraced him. They clung together, and Mace reveled in the tangible feel of a dear friend he had believed dead. One tiny piece of the weight of his grief fell away.

They meditated together, there on the rock. Words could come later; intwining into the Force with a dear friend was a pleasure Yoda had been denied for eighteen years.

"Tell me about what I have missed, these two decades," Mace said when they raised themselves back to their bodies.

"Caught many frogs, have I," Yoda said. He shot Mace a sly look. "Thrilled, would I have been, eight hundred and fifty years ago, to see that my retirement would produce such bounty."

Mace laughed.

***

"Told me, Obi-Wan has, of your opinion of my teaching abilities," Yoda said later, over dinner.

"I mean no disrespect, or unkindness," Mace said. "You taught countless Jedi, and did it well."

Yoda waved this away. "Afraid of the truth, a Jedi should never be. Telling, or hearing, either. Failed, we did, all of us. Failed our students, failed the Republic, failed the Force. Old I am, and frail. Teach another … I do not know if I can."

Mace nodded. "You and Obi-Wan know more of him than I do," he said. "What is he like? What are his strengths and weaknesses? What strategies had you considered?"

They spent hours discussing Luke and the challenges of training an adult (barely) with no prior Jedi training. It was a relief; Mace was by far the most senior Jedi in the enclave, and conversations like this one, based on an equality of experience and mastery of the Force, were rare.

***

Mace sat outside the hut, and listened in on Yoda's act. It had been Yoda's idea, and not something Mace would have thought of, but it was interesting to hear Luke interact with someone he wasn't expecting to be important. It was very revealing.

Mace had been skeptical that the sort of games Yoda played with younglings in the creche would be effective with an adult, but he'd been wrong.

When Yoda stopped playing with the young man, Mace got up and went in. Luke did a double-take, breaking off his protests.

"Master Windu, you're already here?" he said. "Why didn't you say anything? Were you sitting out there laughing at me?"

"I wasn't mocking you," Mace said. "I was evaluating how you treated someone who is different and odd, and also, how long it took you to look past your own preconceptions."

"But it's not fair," Luke said. "I didn't know I was being tested!"

"In the real world, we rarely know when our words and actions will be important and when they will not," Mace said. "And we weren't trying to evaluate how you treat people you think are important. We were trying to evaluate how you treat people when they're not important."

Luke sagged. "Oh."

"Being a Jedi is not—or shouldn't be—about power," Mace said. "It's about following the will of the Force, and about having compassion for all. It's about being able to see past the surface of things to their true depth."

"Not trusting your eyes, because they can deceive you," Luke said.

Mace nodded. "Yes."

"That was … the Order's greatest failure, during the Clone Wars," Obi-Wan's ghost said. "We became too caught up in reacting to each catastrophe as it came, we did not have the time or attention to step back and see what the deeper problems were. We were too busy with the most obvious problems to see their roots, until it was far too late."

Mace and Yoda nodded soberly.

"And here I just did the same thing," Luke said, a wave of shame flowing through him. "Did you do that sort of thing often, in training Jedi?"

"Lie to them about my identity, I did not," Yoda said. "Could not. Every Jedi knew me from the moment they were first brought to the Temple for training. But play similar games with the younglings, I did, so that practice their manners they could, even when frustrating, the person they talked to was."

"And I just failed a game you played with children," Luke said bitterly.

"You are still very young, Luke," Mace said. "Still learning who you are as a person, still growing. And you are only just beginning your journey as a Jedi. Young people are often impatient, and prone to quick judgments they do not have the experience to realize are flawed. Even back in the Order's height, when all Jedi began their training as children, it was not uncommon for Padawans and new knights to have similar issues. Obi-Wan, for example, was not shy about showing his impatience with the bedraggled and unfortunate people his master regularly associated with."

Obi-Wan's ghost nodded ruefully, although Luke couldn't see him.

"The purpose of being a student is to learn," Mace said. "The purpose of being a Jedi apprentice is to learn about the Force, and about yourself, so that you can more clearly see how to use the Force—and when to let it use you. Don't be discouraged. It's hard work, but I think you will do well, as long as you acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them."

Luke sighed, but nodded.

"Let us begin," Mace said.