Nelani was dead: to begin with. About that, there is no doubt whatsoever. The register acknowledging her death had been sign by the Grand Master, the Alliance liason, and the chief mourner. Jacen signed it, and his name was good as credits, for anything he put his hand to. Young Nelani was dead as a Tatooine desert.

Mind you! I don't mean to say that I know anything about how there is anything particularly dead about a Tatooine desert. Myself, I would have been inclined to think a Korriban desert to be the deadest piece of landscape, so far as they go. But the wisdom of the Jedi is in their words, or so I'm told, and my plain hands shall not disturb them, or the galaxy's done for. So you might indulge me if I repeat, quite humbly, that Nelani was dead as a Tatooine desert.

Jacen knew she was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Jacen and Nelani had been collegues for I don't know how many years. That, and it was by his own saber that she met her end. And even he was not so dreadfully cut up by the unfortunate event, but he was a cold man of logic on the very day of her memorial, and solemnised it with an undoubted assurance that he had been correct.

The mention of Nelani's memorial brings me back to where I started. There is no dount that Nelani was dead. This should be distinctly understood, or nothing at all can come from the story I am to relate to you. If we were not perfectly convinced that Luke's Father had died before the movies began, than there would be in other crispy, middle aged gentlmen, rashly turning up in a breezy spot--say Cloud City's Carbon Freeze Facility for instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

Jacen never picked up Young Nelani's body. There it lay, years afterwards, at the bottom of the mindshaft: for Lumiya was quite otherwise occupied. Jacen gave this nary a thought, for it was all the same to him.

Oh, but he was tight-handed in the library, Jacen! A squeezing, clutching, covetous glutton for knowledge. Cold and rational as a computer. The chill within him froze his old features, nipped his concience, shriveled his compassion, made his eyes yellow, his lips thin, and spoke shrewdly in his soothing voice. He carried his own cold with him, and didn't thaw it one degree at Life Day.

External dark and light had little influence on Jacen, light failed to lead, and darkness failed to blind him. No wind was more bitter than he, and no rain was less open to reason or entreaty.

Nobody stopped him in the halls of the Temple and asked "Jacen, how are you? When will you come see me?" The destitute never begged him for a trifle, children never asked the time, no sentient, in all their life, asked direction to or from a place of Jacen. Why, even the Miraluka appeared to know him, wagging their fingers and chiding, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"

But what did Jacen care? It was what he liked. For it was that very...

Ok, you know what? They don't pay me enough to talk like this. Dickensien is hard enough to listen too, much less speak and write. From know on, I'll speak English, if you please.

Now, where was I? Oh, right. Jacen was a complete asshole. If you understood the paragraphs before this, then I think you've gotten that particular point. And if you didn't before, I've made it quite clear by now. Moving on.

Once upon a time--of all the good days of the year, on the eve of Life Day--old Jacen sat by the light of the glow panel, pouring over some archaic text in the vain hopes of making himself sound less pathetic than he was. It was chilly as Ossus ever got, since it has two suns. But his time with Vergere, that evil bird, had rendered him superhumanly immune to pain and logical paradoxes, so he was not bothered by the cold. The temple chronos had just sounded sixteen hundred, but it was already dark.

The door of his room in the temple was open so he might keep an eye on his apprentice, sullenly sorting through datapads filled with things that were probably forbidden to Jacen. Not that Jacen cared, of course. If it came down to it, he could always erase the little twit's memories. Again.

He was interupted in him musings by a chime from the door. Standing, he made his way to the door, and opened it calmly. His uncle stood there, grinning like the senile old fool he was.

"Hello, Jacen, oh nephew whom I trust with my life and who I know would never ever betray me," Luke said cheerily. Jacen cringed at all the happy.

"Yes, what do you want?" He asked tersly. "I'm busy. Three texts to translate that I just got from Lumi...erm, I mean...I have to...wax...my turtle...yeah." He winced, sure that his secret was out.

But Luke simply smiled even wider, oblivious to the fact that his favored student was now an evil bastard. Oh well, nobody ever said he had to be bright. "So then you'll be coming to our Life Day party tomorrow?"

Jacen raised an eyebrow, "Uncle Luke, we're humans. Not Wookiees. We don't celebrate Life Day."

Luke gasped, "But Jacen, beloved pupil, you simply must! 'Tis the Life Day season!"

Jacen slapped a hand to his forehead and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Ben!" he called testily, "get in here!" His cousin raced faithfully into the room. Jacen picked up a small rubber newspaper from the table next to the door. Luke and Ben's ears perked up, and they followed the small toy with their eyes. "Fetch." he said simply, tossing it into the hall. The two Skywalkers bounded after it eagerly, and Jacen took the opportunity to slam the door behind them. "Maybe now I can get some peace and quiet while I work."

Two hours later, there was another chime. Irritably pushing away from his desk, the young man answered it yet again.

This time, it was his once-loved twin sister, Jaina. Zekk, he noticed, was purring softly from the floor as he did the figure-eight around her legs. He could see Jagged Fel staring at Jaina from behind a conveniently placed potted plant, and Kyp Durron was hanging from the ceiling of the corridor, snapping pirctues every few seconds.

"Jacen," she siad flatly. Jaina seemed to not like him nowadays, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. After all, all he did was trick her into commiting a few war crimes. Not anything bad. "Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara asked me to remind you that the Life Day party is in the meeting chamber tomorrow at eighteen hundred. Bring cake." At this, she rolled her eyes. It seemed she had also run afoul of their family's senseless holiday cheer. "Let's go boys." With that, she and her three stalkers departed.

Jacen shut the door, making sure to turn off the chime. The ancient texts could wait. He was tired, damnit!

He'd been in bed not four hours when he heard a rattling from above him. Trying his best to ignore it, he kept his eyes shut, trying to toss and turn himself back to sleep.

"Jacen...Jacen Solo..."

He groaned, "Go away, Uncle Luke. I'll come to the damn Life Day party, just let me get some--ow!" He gave a cry of suprise as a whole stack fo datapads flew at his head. In his shock, he opened his eyes, and saw the one sight he'd never expected to see.

Nelani Dinn was standing over him, blue energy swirling around her spectral form. The hole in her chest was still there, plain as day. She was lightly tapping her foot, hands on her hips.

"Good, you're up." He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, "No, none of that. Time is money, so listen up dumbass: Tonight, you'll be visited by three Force Ghosts. Apparently somebody wants to save your soul. Why, I can't imagine." She rolled her semi-transparent eyes, "Figures. So, go with them, and try not to make too much of an ass out of yourself. Goodbye Jacen. I'll see you in Heeeeeeeeeeeell..." And so, the ghost of Nelani Dinn faded away, but not before smacking him once for good measure.

Jacen sat there, baffled, 'WTF' written all over his face. That is, it was until he glanced in a mirror and rubbed it off, uttering a few unpleasent oaths about Nelani's parents. He'd just about gotten it all off, ruining his top sheet in the process, when a strong wind blew through his bedroom, a flash of light filing the chamber...