DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
"My name is not really Rath," the older man continued, handing Luke a cup of tea. Luke sipped it, burning his tongue and wincing in pain. "My actual name is Yar-Rath Aro. However, Darth Vader would have recognized the name, if not the man. I was only thirty when he began slaughtering Jedi." A shadow fell over his features, remembering the horrors that Vader had wrought.
Then the shadow lifted. "My uncle owned this bar, and he quickly took me in, pretending I was a boy he had adopted. I took on the name Rath Anol, and hid my lightsaber, my robe, anything that hinted that I was a Jedi."
"Why hide them?" Luke asked. "They would put you in danger... and why did you remain on Coruscant?"
Rath leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Because I knew, deep down, that before I died someone would come to turn the tables, to restore peace and justice... and defeat the Emperor and Vader."
"My father repented," Luke protested.
"I'm not saying he didn't, boy. As much suffering as Vader wrought," Rath said soberly, "I always choose to think of him as the innocent slave boy who thought of nothing but helping those less fortunate. And I am happy that he returned to that way of thinking in the end."
Luke bowed his head. "I wish I'd known him then."
Rath sighed. "It's a pity you didn't, Luke. But I know he speaks to you now, through the Force."
"Yes, he does," Luke said quietly. "And he's... he always feels like he's there. Not even Master Yoda is there all the time, but if I focus I can sense my father."
"He was stronger in the Force than any other," Rath replied. "Luke, have you been to the Jedi Temple?"
"The what?"
Rath sighed. "I see not. Not surprising, the Temple has probably been abandoned for years. It was where every Jedi was raised and trained, until they were taken by Knights as Padawan apprentices. It was where Knights stayed between missions. And it was where the Jedi Council congregated..."
A memory flashed into Luke's mind. He saw a circle of twelve Jedi in a room that overlooked Coruscant's skyscrapers. He saw... Yoda, younger. He saw a dark-skinned man with a deep voice and a shaved head. He saw ten other Jedi, some human, some not, all cautious and intelligent, watching and studious.
And he saw children, ranging from babies to teenagers, romping in the light-filled corridors and playing by pools. He saw the older children duelling with lightsabers, as various Jedi watched from the shadows. He saw, with a shock, Qui-Gon Jinn, watching two boys duelling with a thoughtful frown on his face. And there was Yoda beside him, watching his ex-apprentice more than the boys.
"I wish I'd been there... to see it all," Luke said wistfully.
Rath just sat there, watching the young Jedi cradle his now-cold tea. Then he stood up, clipped the lightsaber to his belt, and pulled a swirling brown robe around his shoulders. "Come on, Luke. Our shuttle is waiting."
"Where are we going?" Luke asked, falling into step behind Rath. The past half-hour had possibly been the strangest of his life.
"To the Jedi Temple, of course," Rath laughed. "Where else would we go?"
C3-PO was tidying up Luke's apartment, setting the few knickknacks in order and dusting already-polished surfaces. R2-D2 was shut down in the corner, looking peaceful and content. And, Threepio thought inwardly, quiet and innocuous.
He dropped the duster as the door whooshed open and Master Luke came in like the wind, his blue eyes shining like a boy's. "Threepio!" he said excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. "Quick, wake Artoo and pack my bags. Then get a few ounches of oil for the two of you and meet me outside." He vanished into his bedroom. "Hurry!" he called.
Threepio's logic circuits whizzed and whirred for about five seconds. "Oh dear," he twittered, picking up the duster and setting it in an unobtrusive place. "I do hope that we're not going anywhere unpleasant."
"Count on it, my mechanical friend," a voice boomed from the doorway.
"Oh, goodness..." Threepio glanced at the tall, burly older human standing in the doorway, smiling at him. Threepio analyzed the man's sandy leggings and loose shirt, and the simple brown robe that reached the floor, and from the color, determined that this man was a Jedi--not a Master, just a Knight.
"Oh, goodness!" Threepio repeated. Then he decided that this was not the best reply. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am C3-PO, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million-"
"Threepio!" Luke called warningly from his bedroom. "Forget about packing, I'm doing it."
"I know who you are," the older man said. He waved a hand, and Artoo burst to life in the corner, turning his head and beeping out a series of questions. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jedi Knight Aro, but I am commonly called Rath."
"Oh, another Jedi Knight," Threepio said, attempting to feign surprise. "My, what an honor. Isn't it, Artoo?"
Artoo beeped something in a hostile tone. Rath burst out laughing.
"Now, Artoo!" Threepio said in a shocked tone. "There's no need to be rude, really! I'm certain that he won't put Master Luke through any sort
of tests..." He stole a glance at the young Jedi emerging from his room with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, than back at the large Jedi. "You won't, will you?"
Rath laughed again. "No, your master and I are simply going to dig up some old relics. Much like myself," he said ruefully, patting his lightsaber.
"You're not old, Master Rath," Luke said, a tinge of worry touching his voice.
Rath touched his white head. "Been aged some by the last twenty years, older than I should be. Although, going back to the Temple with another Knight makes me feel around twenty years younger," he said robustly. "And you don't have to call me 'Master,' boy. I'm not a Master, and most importantly you're not my apprentice."
"Would you mind if I called you that?" Luke asked.
Rath's leathery face dissolved into an almost shy smile. "You remind me of my apprentice, a little." For a moment, an air of melancholy seemed to drift over him. Then he shook it off and pointed toward the door. "Come on. Kayvee's holding the shuttle for us, but having me out of sight makes her nervous."
"Kayvee?" Threepio inquired, following Luke out the door. Artoo made a wide circle back and locked the door securely.
"KV-78, my server droid," Rath stated, starting to run down the stairs to the docking port. On the flat, levitating area was a small shuttle. "She's another protocol droid, of a different make."
Artoo beeped something in a gleeful tone. "No, we are not going to talk Master Luke and Master Rath's ears off!" Threepio said in a highly offended tone. "Wherever did you get that idea?"
Luke couldn't repress a grin at the fluting tone that Artoo emitted as they made their way up the ramp. Kayvee was standing in the cockpit. At the sight of Threepio and Artoo, she made an odd squeaking noise.
"New people--and especially new droids--always unnerve her," Rath remarked as he seated himself in the pilot's seat and began to work the controls.
Luke glanced at Kayvee out of the corner of his eye. She appeared to be trying to meld her tarnished silver form into the wall. "If you don't like new people, then how can you be an effective server droid?" he asked dubiously.
"Most of our customers are regular," Kayvee said in a small voice.
"Greetings," Threepio interjected suddenly, gesturing as widely as his arms would allow. "I am C3-PO, human cyborg relations. And this is my counterpart, R2-D2."
"Quite pleased to meet you," Kayvee fluttered. Artoo emitted a disbelieving chirp at the possibility of there being more droids with Threepio's mentality. Luke had to repress a grin.
The Temple stood alone and above the rest of Coruscant. Aside from its upward-reaching spires and the fact that it was virtually unconnected with the buildings around it, it was unspectacular. But Luke shivered a little as he looked at it. The voices of Jedi long gone seemed to beckon from it, vibrating from the Force like ripples in a pond.
"You feel it too," Rath said softly, his dark eyes distant. He put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "The Force has always been strong here, and perhaps only stronger now that nothing lives there."
"Why isn't it gone?" Luke asked quietly. "Why would the Emperor destroy the Jedi Order, but not the Temple?"
"I don't know," Rath confessed. "But I... personally think that it was his perverse way of gloating, to destroy the soul of what the Jedi were, and leave a monument to their loss." He shook off his reverie and examined the exterior of the Temple with a critical eye. "It looks in fairly good condition."
Luke stared at the highest spire, a many-windowed room that had to have one of the best views on Coruscant. He rested his chin on his hand, looking younger than his years and experience. "Are you certain no one lives there?" he asked. "You haven't been here for twenty years... perhaps someone is using it."
"No," Rath said firmly, shaking his white-maned head. "Everyone on Coruscant knows what the Jedi Temple was and is. No one so much as dares come near it, even though the Empire is gone." He pointed at the side of the Temple, where a simple landing platform extended from the wall. "We'll land there."
As the shuttle eased down onto the platform, Luke flipped down the ramp and jumped onto the metal surface. He felt, rather than saw, the age of the steel beneath his feet, but he also knew that the structure was sturdy enough to survive centuries. It would hold up the shuttle.
At the side of the platform was a door, so perfectly colored and molded into the side of the building that Luke hadn't seen it at first. He glanced at the control panel and the odd symbols on it. He frowned, trying to remember what they were.
Kayvee, Threepio, and Artoo walked and rolled out, muttering and beeping. Rath came last, putting some metal components into a cloth bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Ready?" the old Jedi asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Luke replied with an echo of Rath's enthusiasm.
Rath punched the panel, and the doors whizzed open, revealing a long corridor. Luke took an involuntary step backwards at the darkness within the Temple, but Rath only growled under his breath. "Can't go in there without walking into a wall." He turned to Luke. "What's the number of your astrodroid?"
"Artoo," Luke replied, reaching for his lightsaber and wondering how useful it would be as a lamp.
"Artoo!" Rath called. The little droid rolled over, beeping inquiringly.
Rath pointed at the panel. "Plug yourself in and see if you can restore power to lights and ventilation, won't you?"
Artoo's computer interface arm shot out and stuck itself into the panel.
For a moment, he spun the socket around, and the lights inside the corridor began to flicker, then flared to brilliant life. Luke winced a little and dropped his hand from his lightsaber. "Good work, Artoo," he commented, giving the astrodroid a little pat on his dome.
"Shall we?" Rath asked, gesturing at the corridor.
Luke nodded, took a deep breath, and walked in next to his friend. For the first time in twenty years, Jedi Knights once again walked the halls of the Temple.
Luke sneezed. It was embarrassing that his first time in the Jedi Temple was marked with a sneeze, but he couldn't help it. The rooms were dusty--very dusty. As Artoo slowly gyrated around the tables set up, he left deep tracks in the dust.
"Put this over your face," Rath said, holding out a handkerchief. Luke accepted it with a faint sniffle of gratitude and pressed it over his nose and mouth. The older Jedi didn't seem to be bothered by the dust. In fact, it seemed that nothing could bother him now.
Luke watched Rath as he walked briskly around the room, running his hands over consoles, statuary, pictures. There was a wistful light in the old Jedi's eyes, coupled with excitement as wild as a boy's, making him seem suddenly younger. He had none of Ben's secretiveness, none of Yoda's worry and sorrow. Was this what the Jedi Knights were? Luke wondered.
"What are these?" Luke asked, ducking into a spacious room, full of tables, benches, and mechanical components.
Rath stuck his head in. "Lightsaber construction," he said with a smile.
"Every apprentice had to construct his or her own lightsaber. Some were 'function first,' some were pretty complex."
"Apprentice?" Luke asked, confusedly. He picked up a sleek casing and studied it.
Rath winced. "I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to tell you that. Jedi were generally raised in the Temple, until they were taken as Padawan apprentices by a Jedi Knight shortly before reaching their teens."
"Did you have one?"
A spasm of pain seemed to cross the old man's face. "Yes, but he was killed by Vader," he said softly. "I... risked my own life to tell his family what had happened to him. It was the least I could do."
Luke felt like smacking himself in the head with the casing for his blunder, innocent as it had been. But Rath simply got up and began to go through the components. "You could build fifty sabers with everything in here," he said, picking up a crystal and studying it. Then, with a perplexed expression, he dropped the crystal and stared around. Then a faint smile crossed his lips. "There it is."
Rath dashed past Luke, his cloak sending up fresh puffs of dust as he reached another workbench, shoving it aside. Luke swung his legs over the bench, staring with interest as Rath brushed years of dust from the top of a sleek silver box, streamlined in a beautiful yet functional way that Luke rarely saw.
The lid popped open under the prodding of Rath's long fingers. Beneath it, nestled in folds of velvet, were lightsabers, sleeker and more artistically done than Luke's. Each had been crafted lovingly, without the rush that he had been in, and certainly with more parts to choose from.
Rath cradled one lightsaber in his large hands, then handed it to Luke. "What do you think?" he asked with faint amusement.
Luke felt for the activation switch, started a little as a bright purple blade shot from the end of the weapon. He waved it experimentally, feeling it hum and seem to meld into his hand. It was perfectly balanced, well-constructed, with faint symbols etched on the casing. He recognized them as Calamari.
"That belonged to a Jedi Master," Rath said quietly. "A close friend of mine, named Canna."
Luke wasn't certain whether the silence meant that he knew of Canna's fate or whether it meant that she had definitely been killed by Vader and the Emperor. But at a slight sound, he turned to see a crystalline tear slide from Rath's eye, running down a line in his leathery face and fell to make a dark spot in the dusty tabletop.
"Are you all right?" Luke asked, realizing how lame the question sounded.
A beatific smile crossed Rath's face, his watering eyes shining with joy. "All right? I'm better than all right, m'boy! I've come home..."