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Walking toward them was Jacen Solo.

He was clad head-to-foot in a black Guard uniform. He wore thick jackboots and thick gloves. His helmet’s full-face visor concealed his features. His cape billowed behind him as he strode.

Zekk felt a chill of almost supernatural dread. In his full regalia, Solo looked so much like Darth Vader that anyone allied with the Jedi, remembering or having studied the bygone times of the Jedi Purge, would be similarly affected.

Jaina’s voice came as a whisper: “Too short.”

“Yeah, Vader was much taller.”

“Too short even for my brother, idiot.” She raised her voice so the intruder could hear her. “Whoever you are, that’s not funny.”

Reaching the edge of their practice clearing, their visitor pushed up his visor, revealing the features of Jag Fel. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. But, Zekk, you should have seen your face.”

Zekk blinked at him. “Trying to get a date with an Alliance loyalist?”

“No.”

“Because you’re not going to find many on Kashyyyk.”

Jag gestured at Jaina. “I came to spar with her. You know, lightsabers.”

Jaina gave him a scornful look. “Jag, do you even know how to use a lightsaber?”

“I know Lesson One. Don’t grab the glowy end.”

Jaina paused, obviously uncertain as to how to respond to his curious request. She walked up to face him. “Jag, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I have every respect for you as a pilot, as a tactician, as a soldier. But in hand-to-hand combat, you’re nowhere near my equal. And you can’t begin to simulate Jacen’s abilities. I won’t get anything out of a practice session, and you might get hurt.”

“I might indeed.” He looked around. “Which are the real lightsabers, and which are the fakes?”

Zekk handed him one of the practice weapons. “This is one of the safe ones.” He handed Jaina the other. “Show him what you’re talking about, Jaina. I could use the rest.”

Unwillingly, she handed Zekk her lightsaber. “He knows exactly what I’m talking about. He’s studied Alema Rar for years. He knows what she’s capable of. I’m worse.”

“Well, then this won’t take too much of your time or energy.” Jag looked down at himself, then gave his thigh a slap. “Here, give me a jolt. So I know what I’m in for.”

Shaking her head in exasperation, Jaina lit the training weapon. Its violet blade leapt into life with a softer snap-hiss than that of a true lightsaber. Then, slowly, she leaned over to strike Jag’s leg.

The blade made a crackling noise. Jag’s leg jerked, a muscular spasm, and he almost fell.

He put weight on it again, took a few experimental steps around. “Ah. Got it. I bet that teaches the young Jedi the virtues of not getting hit.”

Zekk nodded. “It does.”

“All right, let’s do it. Zekk, you call it.” Jag flipped his faceplate down, becoming a believable, if slightly short, simulacrum of Jacen Solo. He thumbed his training lightsaber into life and raised it in a credible two-handed grip.

“Go.”

Almost faster than the eye could follow, Jaina lunged. Jag moved his blade laterally to sweep her point out of line, a clumsy maneuver suited to a first-year sword student. Jaina disengaged before their blades met and thrust, popping her blade across the side of Jag’s neck.

Jag let out a yell and staggered back, patting at the point of the blow. “Wow.”

“Necks aren’t too bad.” Zekk rubbed his own in sympathetic memory. “Wait until you catch one across your eyelid. Or groin.”

Recovered, Jag stood once more in ready position. “Again.”

“Go.”

This time Jag initiated the attack, a basic vertical slash. He was strong enough to give it a lot of power.

Jaina stepped aside and her lateral blow hit him across the upper arm.

“Ow. Blast it.” Jag rubbed the spot of the injury.

Jaina gave him an exasperated look. “Technically, this bout isn’t over, because all I did was take your arm off, in theory. A Jedi might be able to continue for a while with a wound like that. But let’s call that one a win for me.”

“Sounds reasonable. Jaina, you’re fast.”

“I’m going to keep