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Tipping back in his chair and folding his hands over his abdomen, Drayson listened to the recording that no other sentient had heard—or would hear, unless he chose to share it with them.

He listened as Princess Leia said, “I want Coruscant to stand for the idea that there’s an alternative to war and tyranny. Cooperation and tolerance—the best of all of us, available to all of us.”

He listened as Viceroy Nil Spaar said, “We do not want or need your protection. We enjoyed the ‘protection’ of the Empire for half my lifetime, and we are determined to avoid such blessings in the future.”

And he thought as he listened, I wish that you’d chosen to let us into that room with you, Princess. But I’ll do all I can to make certain you don’t look back on that choice with regret.

Chapter 6

Inside the protective cocoon of Luke Skywalker’s secret hermitage, time had no meaning.

To be sure, the elemental cycle of day and night was echoed in the ebb and flow of the Force, as the living web of Coruscant stirred and slept, fought and foraged. The turning of the seasons was a longer, slower rhythm, an almost imperceptible crescendo and decrescendo of vitality and dormancy, fecundity and death.

Beyond that, a mere whisper, lay the almost unimaginably deep, subtle echo that was the birth of stars, the creation and extinction of life, the blossoming of consciousness. Deep in meditation, profoundly connected to the mysteries of the Force, Luke could see that through the manifestations of life, the universe knew itself, and beheld its own wonders.

But to extend himself that far, and reach that degree of oneness, Luke found it necessary to let go of his everyday senses to a degree he once would have thought impossible.

Sealed behind opaque walls, he lived in darkness for days at a time, barely conscious of hunger, thirst, or other bodily demands. He wore clothing only out of habit, but the habit weakened. The winds howled outside the hermitage, but Luke was oblivious to them. He took no notice of the sun or moons in their courses, the rise and fall of the tide, the ever-changing sky painted in light and cloud.

The sea began to freeze, as the northern hemisphere slid deeper into Coruscant’s short winter. Over a period of many days, the rocks and beach were draped with a heavy crust of sculpted ice. But the sight would have surprised Luke, had it mattered enough to him to seek it out.

Even Leia had stopped reaching out for him, though more in anger than in understanding. The result mattered more to him than the reason. His solitude was complete, timeless and undisturbed.

Then a visitor came, and everything changed.

It was his ordinary senses, reawakened, which informed Luke of the visitor’s presence. First, a sound, which he later realized was his own name.

At that point, it had been many days since he had spoken, or even thought in words.

He concentrated. “Lights, medium.”

The meditation chamber reappeared around him. Sight told him that a woman stood in the chamber with him, half a dozen steps away. Her shoulders were bare, her throat covered by a long scarf that vanished down her back. Her hair was long and braided, her clothing soft and flattering. Her eyes were dark, intent, and knowing.

He took her at first for a projection, because it was unthinkable that anyone could have passed through the walls, his screens, without alerting him. But then he touched her bare arm, and touch told him her skin was real, and warm. He circled her, and scent told him of salt air, dead quarrelgrass crushed underfoot, a body bathed in flowers, a hint of the taint of the old oils and clinging vapors that hung on one’s person after a long flight.

“Explain yourself,” he said when he had circled around to face her again.

“You are him. You are Luke, son to Anakin.” She smiled with bright delight. “Forgive me. I thought I would never find you. It must have been the working when you built this place that I felt. That was what led me here.”

“You felt what I did?