And Ben Stiller Thought He Had it Bad in "Meet the Parents..."

"You WHAT?!"

I sigh. Here it comes... I turn to Vader to make sure I have his moral support for this, then repeat what I said.

"I'm going out with Vader, Mom. Plain and simple. We're officially a couple."

Mom gapes at me over her medical textbook. Yeah, I know, maybe I shouldn't have broken the news to her while she was studying, but this is the first time all day we've been together in the same room without something else occupying our time.

"Mom?" I try when her silence stretches on. "You okay?"

She stares a few seconds longer. Then her head falls onto her book, conveniently covering a nasty-looking photo of a Stage III bedsore.

"Mom!"

Vader starts forward, a hand extended to help her out, when she straightens and howls with laughter. So she didn't pass out from shock, something my mom never does -- she's just enjoying some humor at our expense.

"I knew it! I knew it! I saw it coming!"

"Yes, you did," I acknowledge grudgingly. I swear all moms have some measure of the Force bestowed upon them -- they're mind readers and can both predict the future and control it to an extent. (Don't believe me on the last? Does the Mother's Curse come to mind? You know, the old "Someday you're going to have a kid that turns out just like you!") So I'm not surprised that my mom saw this train wreck coming before it even left the station.

"Oh my," she sighs, wiping tears from her eyes. "I needed that."

"I'm serious, Mom," I tell her. "And I know it must sound strange to you. But we're in love, and we're going to be dating now. I know... I know he's probably not your first choice..."

"Who said it was my choice?" she replies. She looks at Vader. "I will admit, I'm a little disappointed that you're not dating a member of our church, but if this is what YOU feel is right, then I'm not going to stop you. If you two are this in love... then you have to follow your heart. That's all that matters."

I stare at her. "Who are you and where's my mom?"

"What, have I ever told you off for your choice in boyfriends before?"

"News flash -- I've never had a boyfriend before. But you were pretty darned vocal about the guys my sister brought home."

She smiles. "Kenya, I'm not a huge fan like you, so in some respects part of me will always see Darth Vader as at least partly a villain. But I've learned a lot about him in the past several months -- and I know he'll never hurt you. The same couldn't be said of some of your sister's picks."

I remember a few choices in particular and make a face. "Got that right."

She now turns to face Vader. "You're going to be good to my baby girl, all right? Because you know I'm protective of my kids. You don't get between a mama bear and her cubs."

He gives her a polite bow. "You know, Mrs. Starflight, that I would do anything for her." It was Vader who informed Mom of my... absence, and to our surprise she took it rather well. I guess nothing much surprises her now.

"How are your kids taking it?" she asks.

"Well," he replies. "It is strange, but they see no problem in my relationship with a woman that is closer to their age than mine."

She laughs. "So Kenya... when are you telling your father?"

"Um... like, never."

She sighs. "Kenya, he's your father. He's got a right to know..."

"The guy hardly even bothers to call me. And ever since he's been able to see Vader, all he can do is make snarky comments about him. Heck, even BEFORE he could see him, he made snarky comments. Don't get me started on the cross-dressing jokes..."

Vader splutters. "The WHAT?!"

"Exactly. For my sanity and my father's health, I'm NOT telling him."

"Kenya, you're an adult now," Mom says with a sigh. "I can't force you to do anything. If you don't want to tell him, fine. But even though you two may not always get along, I think he has a right to know what's going on in your life."

Uh-huh. The man who's always played favorites with his kids (guess who's never been the favorite) and thinks geek-ism is the Great and Unpardonable Sin has a right to know what's going on in my life...

"Give him a chance," Vader informs me, and I realize he's been picking up on my thoughts. "After all, I haven't been an exemplary father either, and yet my children have given me a chance."

"You're on HIS side?"

"No. But I think it is in your best interest to maintain communication with your father -- and tell him about our relationship."

"Fine," I grumble. "But he's not gonna like it."

***

I knew it.

"You and he are WHAT?!" roars Dad.

"He's your WHAT?!" shrieks Hillary*, my stepmom.

Spencer, my stepbrother, falls sideways on the couch and laughs like the loon he is.

"We're dating," I repeat, hoping to finish this as soon as I can so we can leave my Dad's house before the fireworks start. "Darth Vader's my boyfriend. And shut up over there!" I holler at my convulsing stepbrother.

"But Kenya, he's as old as your father!" Hillary cries out.

"So when was it declared illegal for two people born in different decades to fall in love?" I demand. You have to understand, my stepmom can be sweet and friendly when she wants to be, but rub her the wrong way and she becomes a harpy.

Dad regains his composure and takes on a serious expression. "Kenya, you know the Church counsels us to only date those with our standards..."

"I know, I know, he's not Mormon," I snap. "But that doesn't make a difference to me."

I might as well have told him I'm thinking of converting to Satanism. His eyes almost bug out of his head. "It doesn't?!"

Spencer gets up from the couch, still grinning and giggling. "Why should it?" he asks. "Love is love. Besides, I think they make a cute couple."

I glower. "We didn't ask for comments from the peanut gallery." Don't take that for hostility -- Spencer is the one step-sibling that acts like a friend to me. I just wasn't in the mood right now for his remarks.

"But there are plenty of other single Mormon men your age, aren't there? Good ones, too. Take Owen Bishop*..."

Ah yes, Owen Bishop. A year ahead of me in school and in choir with me my junior year -- everyone couldn't stop talking about what a beautiful voice he had, but in my opinion he sounded like a lounge singer. Sure, he was good-looking, came from a Mormon family that was prominent in our community, and was a smooth and polite kid. But... I really can't see myself marrying a man who refuses to do physical labor because it might damage his concert-pianist hands. And I'm still a little sore over the Christmas dance -- I asked him to the dance, he told me no, he had other plans for the night... then he goes out with someone else to the dance. Is it a wonder I have no interest in pursuing him?

"Are you implying, Mr. Starflight, that you don't think I am good enough for your daughter?" inquires Vader, adding just the slightest note of menace to his voice to get his point across.

Dad pales. "Um... I'm just saying... you don't exactly have the best track record..."

"And you will judge me for my past errors?" Vader growls. "When your God commands you to forgive all men?"

"Don't preach to me," Dad retorts. "You're not even Christian, how can you understand..."

"Spencer, take Vader to your room and show him your computer," I suggest -- okay, I order. "I'm sure he'd LOVE to see it."

The two of them take the hint and leave. Spencer'll most likely let Vader work out his frustration by pounding the living snot out of some orcs and taurines on World of Warcraft. I breathe a sigh of relief. An attempted murder was just barely avoided... no thanks to my dad.

"Dad, I'm not asking your permission to date him," I tell him firmly. "Nor am I trying to imply that I have no regard for the Church. I'm just letting you know that I love him, we're dating, and that makes him part of my family just as much as you and Hillary. You don't have to accept it. You don't have to like it. But I just want you to understand that he and I are bonded deeply, and I can't ignore that."

"Well, I DON'T like it, and I DON'T understand how you can love someone like him, someone who's killed children and caused the death of the first woman he loved. I think you're just setting yourself up to be hurt."

"Anyone who decides to have a relationship sets themself up to be hurt," I retort. "Dad, you may not like having a geek daughter. I understand that. But I don't particularly like having a bigoted jerk of a dad either."

And I run to Spencer's room, not caring that he's yelling at me to come back.

Spencer's showing Vader the ropes of some online racing game when I come in and flop down on his futon, frustrated out the kazoo. Vader senses my anger, and he leaves the computer to sit by me and pull me close.

"I'm sorry, Kenya," he says. "But you cannot say you didn't try."

"Why do I even bother?" I mumble. "He's never going to accept me as I am."

"You and I both know he's impossible to please," Spencer snorts, swiveling his chair around to face me. "That's why I stopped trying long ago."

I nod. Spencer and I have our differences, but in that respect -- that we're both the outcasts of our family as far as my dad and his stepdad are concerned -- we're on the same boat.

"Come," Vader tells me, standing and extending his hand. "Let's go home. Perhaps a movie will cheer you up."

I smile. "I got 'The Terminal' from the library. I hear it's good."

"Very well. 'The Terminal' it is."

The One

Kenya posting.

Finally, you say? Yes, I'm back. Though part of me wishes I was still asleep or in suspended animation or whatever I was before the stormies jumped me in the parking lot of the grocery store...

I'm tired. Not just physically, though goodness knows I feel as if a truck backed slowly over me. My mind is tired, tired from trying to absorb everything. My heart is tired, tired from grappling with what seems to be the impossible. I'm weary to the bones. Yet sleep might as well be beyond the Outer Rim in the state I'm in.

Subdivisions are slowly invading the open country around here, so light pollution is drowning out the stars. But on a clear night like tonight, it's still possible to make out the splendors of space and the silvery arc of the Milky Way overhead. I sit on the old porch swing that occupies our backyard, Shmendrick curled up in my lap, rocking absently as I try to process everything...

I woke up this evening to find myself on the couch, dressed in my hideous pink PJs and my head and throat aching fit to burst. My arm was bandaged, and it hurt to move it wrong. And the house was jam-packed with Resistance members, all looking decidedly worse for the wear. Huh. I wondered at what had been going on as I got up and went to my room to change. Hey, I DON'T do Pepto-Bismol pink unless all my other pajamas are in the wash.

Vader was sacked out on my bed. Weird again. Luckily, he didn't wake as I grabbed a tie-dyed T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants and ducked out.

I had a serious case of the munchies, a strong desire to check my e-mail, and no intention of going back to bed, so I made myself a sandwich and plopped down in front of the comp.

The first thing to hit me was the date -- August 27th! How can it be August 27th when I reported to work on August 15th??? Just how long had I been Palp-latrine's captive?

So I checked the blog and read the e-mails and blog comments that filled my inbox. I learned all that had transpired in the last two weeks. I learned many things that settled on the surface of my mind but wouldn't sink in for awhile longer. One major piece of news, however, hit home immediately.

Emperor Palpatine. The slimeball had been possessing me. He had been in my body. For two.... whole... weeks.

I stared at the comp. I stared at the Resistance members on the furniture and floor.

Then I got up from the comp and proceeded to take the longest shower of my entire life.

***

Which leads me to here.

I think I've come to terms with most of it. I've made a few conclusions. For one thing, everyone on the blog has truly gone the distance for me these past few weeks, and I don't know how I can ever repay them. The Emperor is gone, hopefully for good. The danged Horcrux was under our noses all this time. I'm going to kill Jango for getting Vader wasted.

And Vader...

I just don't know. All this time I've told blog readers that there never was, never is, and never will be anything romantic between us. Now I see that was a cop-out, an excuse to not deal with it. He loves me -- I've heard it from Luke, Jango, and him on the blog. And I don't know how to handle that.

As a Mormon, I've been taught all my life that I should marry a nice young Mormon man who'll take care of me and our family. And yet... and yet I've also been taught, even by church members, to follow my heart. And it seems my heart is pointing to this man who is most definitley NOT a nice young Mormon man.

The door opens, and I hear footsteps on the deck -- the footsteps of a rather heavy man who is nonetheless trying to be as quiet as possible. I try to pretend I don't notice his approach, though it's kind of hard to miss a seven-foot Dark Lord wearing a respirator.

He stands before me, almost forcing me to look at him. Then he kneels to put himself at my eye level, taking my hands in his. His mask hides his expression from my view, but over the last year I've learned to read his body language well, and I can see that he has been to Hell and back these past two weeks. He's worried himself sick over me, and now that I'm back...

"I thought I had lost you, Kenya," he murmurs, his voice full of emotion.

"Vader, I..." I have to look away.

His hand moves to touch the bandage on my arm. "Forgive me for hurting you."

I pull my arm back. "Please... don't do this... it won't work... we're too... I'm... you're... we're..." And I do something totally out of character for me, though I suppose I can blame my fatigue and the shock of the situation -- I burst into tears.

His hand cups my chin, bringing my head up so I'm looking into his mask, into the black lenses that shield his blue, blue eyes.

I don't know that I've ever experienced telepathy before. But nothing -- no science-fiction novel, no scientific theory, no Jedi explanation -- could have prepared me for what floods me at this moment. It's not just words in my mind, but a wave of pure emotion that washes over me, as all the fear and pain and love and triumph Vader has known over the past few weeks in his quest to find me fill my soul. I hold his gaze, fearing that this will end if I break it.

Does it really matter, Kenya Starflight, that we are so different? he inquires gently. That I am a cyborg? That I am a Force-wielder and you are Mormon? That we hail from opposite ends of the galaxy? That there is so much difference between our ages? His hands frame my face. Because to me, it makes no difference. I love you, Kenya. I pursued you once across the galaxy. I will pursue you again, to the very ends of the cosmos, if I must. I will not lose you again.

I reach up and place my hands over his, holding them there.

"Please don't make me go on," he says with a smile in his voice. "You know I'm terrible at poetic declarations of love."

I can't help but laugh. "Sounded poetic enough to me."

He chuckles. "Well?"

"I love you, Vader. I'm not going to pretend anymore that I don't. Because I loved you the moment I saw you on the movie screen when I was fourteen. I guess you could have called it a crush then... but now... now that I have called you friend... I can truly say I love you." I look away. "I guess I just never wanted to say it aloud. I didn't want people thinking I was... weird."

"Or for them to accuse you of the ultimate Mary Sue," he adds.

"I'm just not sure how we can work it out in the long run," I continue. "What's going to happen down the road."

He gently pulls me to my feet, spilling Shmendrick in a squawking heap in the grass. "Then we'll take it one day at a time, Kenya. And enjoy it while we can."

Music plays from somewhere -- Vader must have brought out my CD player and "Elton John's Greatest Hits" CD. He leads me out onto the grass, and together we dance under the stars. For a few minutes, we can forget the pain and terror of the past. For a few minutes, we can forget the uncertainty of the future. For a few minutes, it's just us.

I saw you dancing out the ocean
Running fast along the sand
A spirit born of earth and water
Fire flying from your hands

In the instant that you love someone
In the second that the hammer hits
Reality runs up your spine
And the pieces finally fit

And all I ever needed was the one
Like freedom fields where wild horses run
When stars collide like you and I
No shadows block the sun
You're all I've ever needed
Baby you're the one

The Dark Lord Speaks VIII: Rescue Mission

It seems an eternity ago that I landed upon Hoth with the intention of crushing the Rebel Alliance... and claiming my son as a Sith Apprentice. Then I had been a servant of the dark side, the Emperor's minion, accompanied by the cloned forces of the Empire and the deadliest of war machines.

Now... the Rebellion that I sought to destroy for so long fights at my side, as do the children I thought I had lost. Now I come to Hoth not to further the Empire's ends, but to bring a halt to them. And now the forces marshaled under my command hail from all corners of the universe, incredibly diverse and yet united in a common cause...

Finding our friend. Finding her and bringing her back from a fate worse than death.

The Phoenix touches down and disgorges her payload of soldiers. Other ships land to drop off troops. On the white expanse our forces spread out, readying weapons, flexing talons, baring teeth in savage grins. High in the cold blue sky, starships of many makes await their prey. And on either side of me stand Luke, his green saber alight, and Leia, her blaster drawn.

I ignite my own weapon, the scarlet light staining the snow at my feet. "Forward!"

At that signal, the ice trembles as the gathered soldiers flood forward, toward the ruins of Echo Base... the newfound stronghold of Palpatine and his minions. Even as we approach, our attack is met by the Emperor's forces -- Vong foot soldiers, AT-ATs, lycanthropes, dementors, stormtroopers...

Fire blooms in the sky as the space battle commences. Blaster bolts hiss past me as I press forward, deflecting laser fire and knocking aside Vong staffs all the while. An Imperial stormtrooper screams in terror as a werecat latches onto his throat. Megatron obliterates an AT-AT with a swing of his fist. A Vong falls under Sentinel's knife. An elven, silver-tipped arrow strikes a werewolf squarely between the eyes. All around the battle seethes and rages, and the snow is soon littered with bodies, stained with blood, and torn to shreds by the horrific activity upon it.

The shield doors of Echo Base have been jammed open by the leg of a fallen AT-AT, and several of us take advantage of this good fortune and duck inside.

Apparently we weren't the first to spot the doors -- the fighting has spilled inside the base. I catch General Grievous, sabers awhirl; Maul and Trisha, holding their own; both Fetts, twin engines of destruction; Master Yoda, his weapon a blur; General Drache and her troops, their armor painted with bolts of silver lightning to set them apart from the Empire's troops; Supersonic and his comrades, who salute upon seeing me; Rose and Prime, guarding each other's backs; Han and Chewbacca, doing much the same; and many more, fighting for all they are worth.

Leia fires at a passing trooper. "You two, find Kenya!" she tells Luke and I. "We'll handle the army!"

"Be careful," I urge her. "I won't lose you," I add without thinking, and want to kick myself.

She gives me a quite unexpected smile. "You won't."

I stare at her a moment. This is an unexpected change in tune...

"C'mon, Father," urges Luke, and I shake myself out of my trance and follow my son further into the bowels of the base.

Fighting continues in pockets throughout the base, and in several places the ceilings have caved in and obliterated passageways. As we travel deeper into the bowels of the base, I sense the cold, decayed presence of the Emperor, awaiting our arrival, expectant, even anxious...

I sense something else, too -- a presence that lies dormant, entranced, and yet glows with a familiar light.

"Kenya," I realize. "We were right, Luke. Kenya remains in her body."

Luke sighs in relief. "Now if we can just get the Emperor out without hurting her."

We suddenly break into a chamber where several individuals are studying a holodisplay of the fighting. They glance at the doorway upon our arrival, and expressions of anger, terror, and surprise flash across their faces. A Vong general, Thrawn, Galbatorix, the Ra'zac, a hooded Death Eater, a sharp-eyed man with a strongly avian face...

And a young woman in a hooded cloak and black dress.

I step forward to face the Emperor, disturbed at what I see. Already Palpatine's presence in Kenya's body has begun to alter her. She is paler than I remember, with dark circles under her eyes... eyes that are no longer gray-blue but have taken on a sickly orange cast. Her features are hard and cruel, and when she smiles it more of a horrible sneer than a grin.

"Welcome back, Lord Vader," Palpatine smiles. "So you have brought your son. What a pleasant surprise. Am I to assume you will be making the exchange now?"

"No," I reply. "You will not take my son. I am here to give you an ultimatum, Palpatine. Leave Kenya. Now."

The voice is Kenya's, but the laugh is unmistakably Palpatine's. "Oh really? You want me to leave this body? Or what? What will you do? Kill me? Kill me and snuff the life of your friend as well?"

Thrawn edges toward the Emperor, his hand drifting to the blaster at his hip. Luke catches his eye and shakes his head slightly to indicate the Grand Admiral stay put.

"I have a bargaining chip as well, Palpatine." I lift the item for all to see.

The Emperor stares -- or rather, gapes -- at the lightsaber in my fingers. Then he whirls on Galbatorix. "You promised me your servant had it under constant guard!"

The Dragon Rider yelps and hits the floor as lightning barely misses him. The Ra'zac back away, hissing.

The avian-faced man chooses that moment to take on his beast-form, and a huge black hawk dives at my hand, talons extended to snatch the lightsaber from my grip. I solve that problem by igniting the blade just as he reaches for it, and he falls to the ground in a heap of smoking feathers.

At the same instant the Death Eater and the Vong strike at my son, the former screaming a curse and the latter raising a staff. Instead of fighting the Vong, Luke jumps back out of the way, and the killing spell meant for him instead fells the Vong general. The Death Eater also falls, and Thrawn lowers his blaster and regards his handiwork warily.

Palpatine snarls. "It seems we have arrived at a stalemate, Lord Vader. If I try to kill you or take your son by force, you destroy my Horcrux. If you kill me, I take your friend with you."

Galbatorix and the Ra'zac duck out of the room. I have a feeling they will not be returning... or making further deals with the Emperor. Thrawn departs another way, no doubt to aid in the fighting.

"But it need not end messily," he continues. Kenya's eyes move to Luke. "You two can join me. Together, we can be an unstoppable force -- and rule the galaxy together, the three of us. There is still much I can teach the both of you..."

I snort a laugh.

"...including how to gain a new, fully healed body for yourself, Vader. You can be whole again. You can be free of the mask."

I wish I can say the offer did not tempt me. But nonetheless, it gave me pause. To be able to shed this wretched mask...

Remember, Father, that the Emperor has made you promises before, Luke warns me. And those promises landed you in the mask in the first place.

I silently thank my son for the reminder. Then I address the Emperor.

"I will never be your slave again, Palpatine. And I will not let you subject my son to the same torment you laid upon me."

He raises Kenya's hand. "Fool." And lightning arcs from the palm of Kenya's hand.

I ignite both blades, catching the lightning upon the crossed sabers. Both blades absorb the energy at a frightening rate, and the weapons emit high-pitched screams as the energy cores threaten to overload. Palpatine sees the danger and tries to withdraw the attack...

Too late. The red blade is designed to block such a prolonged attack, but the blue blade is not. I release it quickly just as it explodes. There is a flash of power, unspeakably black and cold... then nothing.

Kenya's scream, vibrating with Palpatine's anger, fills the room. Her face twists in a grimace of hatred, and a scarlet blade like my own ignites in her hands. The Emperor has lost the Horcrux... and now has nothing left to lose in fighting me.

"Luke, run!" I order.

He darts out.

Ruby light strobes through the ice cavern as our blades slam into each other again and again. Palpatine fights like a man possessed, teeth bared in a feral snarl. I keep on the defensive, partly to let him believe that he is truly prevailing in this fight... but mostly to avoid hurting Kenya.

Once -- and only once -- does my blade connect, and then by accident. In parrying a strike, I overreach and end up searing Kenya's left arm badly. Palpatine screams in pain, then grins in triumph and renews his attack. I continue to block, cursing myself for carelessness.

A strange fog begins to creep over my senses. I reach out to touch Luke's mind and cannot. The Force does not respond to my inquiry. I can only assume the Emperor cannot touch the Force either... but he is too engrossed in the duel to notice.

Perfect.

I break out of defensive mode and slash at the Emperor, catching him off guard. My blade hammers down upon his with such force that the weapon is knocked from his hands. He extends Kenya's hand to launch an electrical attack, but not even a spark emerges.

I jump back just as Leia's stun blast strikes Kenya in the back.

Before her body can hit the icy floor I catch it, and as I lift the body I hear the Emperor hiss what I pray are his last words:

"I curse you, Anakin Skywalker... I curse you and your blood and Kenya Starflight as well... that is a promise I WILL fulfill..."

Luke and Leia enter cautiously, each with weapons ready just in case... and each bearing a sleek furred animal on their shoulder. Other soldiers enter, also bearing ysalamiri. Our plans came through... for once.

Two of Drache's troops step forward with a stretcher. "We'll take her, sir."

"Take her to the medical center on the Ark," I tell them, lowering her on the stretcher. "And find Vash and tell him he may do what he must to drive Palpatine from her. I must remain behind and finish the battle."

"No, Father," Luke urges. "Go with her. She needs you."

"We can take it from here," Leia adds.

"Thank you," I reply, not trusting myself to say more.

Kenya looks almost peaceful as she is borne out of Echo Base, her features relaxed and more resembling the girl I know and love. I rest a hand upon hers as I accompany her to the waiting shuttle. The Emperor WILL be driven from her. The vile demon WILL be excised from her body. We have come too far to fail now.

The Dark Lord Speaks VII: Beneath the Theater

My apologies for leaving the planet so abruptly, members of the Resistance. But it was necessary. I wanted to act on my information as quickly as I could.

I am updating the blog from the Phoenix, which is currently cloaked and orbiting an undisclosed planet. I have had an opportunity to check on the blog and view the last few posts from Maul, Jango, and my son, as well as all accompanying comments. And I have a suspicion that one commentator in particular abruptly suffered an attack of respiratory distress...

By the way, thank you, Jango, for humiliating me before the entire Resistance by inebriating me and posting about it. I will repay you when this entire mess is over.

Now to business. The Horcrux IS in our possession. Though obtaining it was no easy task...

While recovering from my outing with Jango, I puzzled over Zacharias' post a few weeks back -- "it is where the story began." I knew that both Naboo and Tatooine, obvious starting places for the "story," had been searched thoroughly. Byss was in fragments. The thought of scouring Corusant was a daunting one...

Then it hit me. Not MY story, not the story of the saga, but another story...

I awakened Luke and presented my idea, and to my surprise he was in full accordance with it. Unfortunately, he informed me that he would not let me pursue it unless he accompanied me. And when Optimus Prime found us preparing to leave, he laid down an ultimatum -- bring him along, or have our escapade reported to the rest of the Resistance. Having no choice, I consented to bring him with us... but since when did everyone become so blasted protective?

We skipped from planet to planet for some time in order to throw off any potential pursuit, then landed at the site of the beginning of the story...

Edwards Cinemas in Nowhere, Idaho, where I had encountered a young Star Wars fan awaiting her chance to buy tickets to Episode III over a year ago.

"Are you sure about this?" Prime inquired as we entered the theater lobby. "This doesn't strike me as a secure location for the Horcrux."

"Which is exactly why the Emperor chose it," Luke put in, smiling. "C'mon, let's look around."

I turned to face my son. "When this is over, I owe you a lecture for your blog post."

He faces me calmly, unrepentant. "Father, they have a right to know how you feel. They have a right to know you're human beneath your mask."

I cannot fault that. But we hadn't time to discuss it in detail. We had a lightsaber to find.

"Hey, we don't open for half an hour!" an acned teenager barked, brandishing a carpet sweeper at us like a force pike. "Wait outside the building!"

I raised my hand and focused the Force upon him. "We have special clearance to enter."

He gave me a blank look. "You have special clearance to enter," he muttered, and slouched away.

We entered the currently abandoned building, and almost immediately I sensed it -- a bone-numbing chill, a presence like something decayed and diseased... the presence of the Emperor. It was close by, and the farther we walked the stronger it became...

A black-hooded form emerged from a theater, an aura of darkness clinging to it as it drifted toward us like a virulent shadow. A dementor! Thrawn had warned us that these beasts guarded the Horcrux.

Luke stepped forward and thrust his hand out as if to push the creature away. There was a blinding flash of light, and the beast streaked away as if something far more terrifying than it was pursuing it. As Luke and I did not use wands, the Patronus Charm was not available to us, but Yoda had taught my son to project emotions, including, it would seem, happiness... something the dementors could not stand.

"I say we have a look at that theater," Luke suggested. "I don't think that dementor was in there checking out what was playing."

I glanced at the marquee just above this particular theater. "'Now Playing, Snakes on a Plane.' The Emperor has a sick sense of humor, though it is appropriate."

Inside, the place was empty, though it reeked of the Emperor's presence. Strangely enough, there were no dementors present. I wondered if we had been lured into a trap...

Prime strode up to the screen and, with a blast of his cannon, shredded it to reveal a hidden passageway hewn into the wall. Luke led the way, ready to resort to the Force in case we encountered more dementors. I followed, and Prime came in last.

The passage spiraled deeper, leading us into what must have been the basement of the building. I wondered how the employees could have possibly missed this in their inspections of the building... but then, their minds could have been clouded, or Voldemort could have played a hand...

"Welcome, Skywalkers and Optimus," a familiar voice thundered. "I've been expecting you."

Abruptly we found ourselves in a dank chamber, dimly lit by our drawn lightsabers. I heard a click as Prime readies his own weapon.

A man clothed from head to toe in polished steel armor stepped out of the shadows, blood-red sword drawn. Just behind him I saw something massive shift, and a scarlet eye gleamed from the darkness. To either side I sensed rather than saw dementors preparing to swarm in for the kill...

"Blothr!" the armored being barked. "They are mine." He regarded us coolly. "So Vader, you couldn't resist coming, even though you had to have known it would be a trap."

"And to think you used to serve the Resistance, Murtagh," I remarked. "What made you change your allegiances?"

"Galbatorix recognized the Resistance for what it was -- weak," he snarled. "A weak force that would establish an equally weak government. The Empire promises strength, and I choose to serve that strength. And I serve him by guarding his soul, his Horcrux."

"You are deluded. The only strength the Empire has is the strength of its cruelty, the strength of the terror it wreaks upon innocents. If that is strength, then I elect to remain weak."

"Then suffer the fate of the weak! Brisingr!"

Flames enveloped me for a terrifying moment. I locked down my urge to panic and threw all the strength at my command toward blocking the spell. The flames danced across my armor, not penetrating, not even scorching, but seeking a break in my power, waiting for me to falter so they could devour me...

The fires snuffed out as Murtagh was forced to withdraw his power before it ran out. "You're stronger than I expected... but not by much."

A deafening roar ripped the air. I looked around to see what had happened while the fires had me occupied. Murtagh's scarlet dragon, Thorn, was locked in a titanic wrestling match with Prime, now his full size, and the floor trembled with their struggles. Luke... I could hardly see him for the dementors that now surrounded him...

The scarlet blade of Zar'roc whistled toward me, and I raised my own crimson weapon to block it. I did not expect my saber to damage a magic sword, so I was not surprised when it connected solidly with my blade. Murtagh, however, seemed startled by the power of my weapon, as if he had expected a light-sword to be weak.

For an age we dueled, sometimes one prevailing, sometimes another. Twice his blade bypassed my guard and struck me, wounding me in the shoulder and damaging my left leg. Twice my own blade found its mark, scorching his armor and burning his right arm and chest. And through it all I could hear and feel the struggles of the others... and sense the pulsing darkness of the Horcrux close by.

At last my blade caught Murtagh in the ribs, burning deeply enough that he dropped his weapon and cried out in pain. At the same time I thrust with the Force, knocking him backward and against the wall with enough force to knock him out. Thorn screamed... and collapsed as Prime brought a massive fist down on his head.

As if on cue the dementors scattered, rustling fearfully amongst themselves, and Luke struggled to his feet, pale and covered in sweat.

"Are you all right?" I demanded, helping him up.

He nodded. "Just worn out."

"That is understandable." I embraced him. "Thank the Force you are all right. For this, I will forego the lecture."

He grinned like a young boy. "Gee, I should fight dementors more often."

Prime rolled his optic sensors.

Just beyond the unconscious hulk of the red dragon stood a pedestal upon which rested an old, weathered lightsaber, one I had wielded so long ago in battle. I stepped over the Rider's body and picked the weapon up. It pulsed coldly in my hand but could do nothing else to affect me. Grimly I clipped it to my belt.

***

For a long time readers and Resistance alike have speculated as to the relationship Kenya and I share. That of friends, of "father" and "daughter," of comrades, of lovers... what?

I can honestly say that, before her capture, I knew as little about this relationship as anyone else. For the longest time I thought of her as simply my hostess, the one who tolerated my company. Later I began to think of her as a friend and ally. Now...

I can only admit that I love her when she is lost to me. I can only pray that I can get her back before it is too late.

Some may think Kenya an unsuitable match for me. Others will counter that my heart belongs to Padme, not to anyone else.

There will always be a place in my heart for my angel, Padme. But there is also a place for my fellow warrior, Kenya.

All members of the Resistance prepare for battle as soon as you read this. The Horcrux is found. The search for Palpatine commences.

Hold on, Kenya. I'm coming. Hold on.

Dang Dumb Blondes Anyway...

Sheesh, try to help a guy get over a lady and get your head almost taken off again...

Jango Fett reporting, wondering why in chaos it seems everyone's blaming ME for this next messy development when I wasn't even coherent at the time. All I did was try to ease some guy's excess emotion over this whole overblown affair.

Don't get me wrong, I like the kid. She's got spunk. And not that I want to see the zombie possessing ANYONE, let alone Kenya. But to me it seemed something important was being neglected -- Vader's sanity. It was clear to me the guy was alternating between dragging himself around in a funk or overworking himself into a frenzy, and no one seemed very inclined to stop him from self-destruction. So can anyone blame me for taking matters into my own gloves?

I'm not a psychiatrist, and I'm not much of a talker -- most of my talking is through the business end of a blaster or flamethrower. So I did what most guys do to help a friend out of an emotional whirlpool.

My apologies to the fine staff of the Table Rock Pub and Grill in Boise for whatever damage we may have done, though in my defense I believe we drew in enough customers to offset it.

"You boys in town for a science fiction convention or something?" asked the waitress, delivering our fourth or fifth round of Earth brew -- not exactly Corellian grog, but not bad, not bad.

"Never mind that, just keep it coming," I told her, reminding myself to give her a hefty tip for her troubles.

"Where I'm from, every day's a science fiction convention," Vader announced. He was in a considerably better mood now, though I was still wondering how the stang he was drinking through that mask of his.

"You know," he went on, staring into his mug with a sort of philosophical air, "when I first heard Padme was pregnant, I was hoping for twins. One for her, one for me. Though I'd have been satisfied with one, of course... And I had plans to spoil those kids rotten." He drained the mug. "Maybe I would have been a decent father. I'll never know. Sithspawned Emperor... who'd have thought a slimy backstabbing despot would turn out to be a homewrecker too?"

"Hear, hear!" Please understand that, by this point, I was not exactly thinking clearly, and I'm not sure Vader was either.

"I killed the bastard," he muttered, oblivious to the foam now dripping down his mask and onto his chestplate. "Pushed him into lava. The end of it. The Big Drop. He should have stayed dead! None of this Horcrux poodoo! None of this obscene possession crap! Doesn't the freak get it? We don't want him here! Not in Kenya's body, not in Luke's, not in anyone's!"

"ESPECIALLY not Kenya's!" I thundered, slamming my mug down on the table and snapping off its handle.

"Especially not Kenya's!" he echoed. "If I find that Horcrux, I swear..." His fist clenched, and in response a mug at a neighboring table exploded, showering the luckless patron in his own drink.

"Whaddaya mean 'if?'" I shot to my feet. "This kid means the galaxy to you, Vader. She stuck by you on Mustafar, and if the situation here were reversed she'd probably be halfway to the Core by now, scouring the galaxy for you!"

"Yes..." he began.

"Then WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?!! If I were you -- a hypothetical situation the mere MENTION of which almost blows my brain material to oblivion -- I'd stop sitting around moping here and GO FIND HER!"

He stared at me a moment, as if not comprehending what I'd said. Then a light seemed to go off behind his mask, and he flung back his head and roared with laughter.

"This next round is on us!" he shouts to the bar patrons. "A toast for Kenya Starflight!"

"To Kenya!" I shout, pumping a fist.

"To Kenya!" another inebriated patron bellows. "Dunno who she is, but if it means free drinks..."

***

The next thing I recall is awakening face-down in the toilet at Kenya's house. Which leads us to now...

"And how are we this morning?" inquires General Drache in a falsely sweet voice.

I manage a groan.

"Believe me, Luke was NOT happy to send Prime off looking for you guys. And he REALLY wasn't happy when the Transformer returned with one of you draped across each shoulder, so plastered we could have mopped the floor with you."

I groan again.

"By the way, Table Rock called. The credits you gave them are no good."

I manage a coherent sentence this time, and I use it to inform General Drache, Luke, Optimus Prime, and Table Rock just where they can stick it.

"Don't mouth off to me, slimebag, this is YOUR doing," she snaps. "What were you thinking anyway? Getting him drunk at a time like this..."

"I was just trying to help..."

"Killing him through alcohol poisoning's helping? He's half-machine, his tolerance level can't be too high..."

"I had it under control..."

"Under control my eye! If Kenya were here..."

"She's not here!" I snarl, wincing as I attempt to stand. "And besides, would she WANT him so emotionally and mentally fried that he couldn't function? I was doing him a favor, and if it doesn't fit in with YOUR pretty plans..."

"Let him alone, Drache," Maul orders, entering the bathroom. "He was acting in Vader's best interests." He nods at me. "I'm passing on a message from Luke -- he thanks you for trying. Though next time he asks that you cut his father off at the third round or sooner."

I mumble something affirmative and look in the mirror. I look like something the psychotic dragon drug in. I fix that by putting my helmet on, then set off to find Vader and help him get over his hangover. If his alcohol tolerance is that low, I don't envy the guy...

I sense something's wrong the moment I reach the door to the Shrine... um, Kenya's room, where he's been crashing the past few days. I know he's not awake in there, because his breathing's absent. And I know he's not passed out or asleep in there, because he snores like a lawnmower.

I kick open the door to the Shrine to see an empty bed and a note taped over the prominently displayed Darth Vader cardboard standup:

We know where the Horcrux is. And we know how to save Kenya. Forgive us, but this is necessary. Don't follow; just be prepared to send backup. We'll contact you.

Darth Vader
Luke Skywalker
Optimus Prime

I take the letter to Drache and wait patiently throughout the brutal but expected tongue-lashing from all sides -- Leia, Han, Maul, Trisha, Drache, Grievous, Roseprincess, Rodimus, and others. Yeah, yeah, kill the messenger...

"What is he thinking?!" demands Grievous. "Going off on his own, and taking Luke to boot! That's just what the pus-pocket wants!"

"Like I'm supposed to know," I grumble.

"Forget the note, I'm sending a squad after them," snarls Drache.

"Won't do any good, they've covered their tracks too well," Maul points out.

"But where did they go?" asks Rose, stunned. "We've looked everywhere and still can't find the Horcrux. Where in the galaxy do they expect to find it?"

The War Renewed

Luke Skywalker posting to report that the search for the Horcrux and for Emperor Palpatine, currently inhabiting the body of Kenya Starflight, continues. Unfortunately, we are no closer to finding either of them.

Many of those that aided the Resistance at the beginning of this summer have returned, including the werecats, the Asgard, and Optimus Prime of the Autobots with his allies. Thank you everyone. Your efforts mean much to all of us. (And Rose, thank you for talking me out of making a very big mistake.)

I'm worried about Father. He hasn't recovered from seeing Palpatine take over his friend. The spark is gone from his step, and he no longer carries himself with the same confidence. It's so... strange... seeing him this reduced.

"I don't see what his problem is," Han says as we sit down to a quick meal before resuming our efforts. "If I were him, I'd be chasing all over the galaxy trying to find her, not moping around like this."

"Give him time to recover," Trisha orders, glaring at him. "They were friends. And he's lost so much else he cares about. This is hard on him."

"How's Operation Decoy going?" asks Maul, cocking his head at General Drache.

"There have been a few slips," Drache confesses. "We're working on correcting them. Luckily, I don't think her coworkers or most of her family have caught on yet, though I believe her mother's getting suspicious." She wears her stormtrooper helmet at all times now, as if recognizing that having her face, so identical to Kenya's, open to view only reminds us of the absence of our friend.

"Where's Lord Vader?" Drache continues, leaning over me to grab an apple off the table.

"Downstairs in the shrine," Jango grumbles. "Shrine" is what he has termed Kenya's room ever since he wandered in there a few weeks ago, and I think the title comes from the fact that her entire collection of Vader paraphenilia adorns the room. "And I agree with Solo, for once. Why doesn't he come out and do something to help us find her, if he's so concerned about her?"

"He needs time..." I begin, coming to Father's defense.

"He's made decisions and led armies in worse circumstances than this," Leia cuts in. "What's so different now?"

General Grievous, who flew in from Telpy's residence, crouches at one end of the table, nursing a Diet Pepsi (don't ask me how he drinks). He's been silent all this time, but something in Leia's comment touches him off.

"You know," he rasps, "the one thing that really ANNOYS me about fleshlings is how they think cyborgs are somehow less than human." He glowers at the rest of us, golden eyes flashing. "Humans and aliens and even the cuter animals can emote, yes. Even droids are seen as thinking, feeling creatures. But CYBORGS..." He laughs bitterly. "We're another story altogether."

"I wasn't suggesting Vader couldn't feel pain..." protests Leia.

"Ah, but being cyborg, he should be able to shake it off, eh?" He drains the Pepsi can. "At least Kenya had the right idea of it when she gave me a true love in 'Heir to the Ring.' And to paraphrase my fictional beloved, you are all, as she so eloquently put it, 'insensitive clods.'" He crushes the can in his claws. "I have a suspicion as to what Vader is going through right now, and all I can say is it's a miracle he's functioning THIS well."

"All right, Dr. Grievous, tell us what he's feeling," Maul says with a roll of his eyes.

Grievous grabs another can of Pepsi and opens it. "He's worried about her, naturally. Afraid of what might happen to her while the corpse uses her body. Then, of course, he feels guilty for not doing all he could to protect her. Then he probably feels guilty for loving her, because he loved Padme first and he might see loving Kenya as betraying Padme's memory. Then he's most likely confused, seeing as he probably hasn't entirely worked out exactly how he feels about Kenya, whether she's his true love or just a good friend. He's angry with the Emperor for doing this to Kenya, plus he's angry with whoever he sent to guard her for not doing their job, and maybe even a little angry at Kenya for not keeping fully on guard herself, and THAT will probably make him guilty all over again for being mad at her when she's the one being hurt by all this mess. And THEN he's probably afraid that all this emotional overload will bump him over to the dark side again, and he doesn't want to hurt Kenya the way he hurt Padme." He paused for a deep, coughing breath. "And he's good friends with Kenya's mom, too, and is afraid of how she'll react if she ever finds out her daughter's been possessed by a psychotic Sith Lord."

Everyone, myself included, stares at the droid general for a good ten seconds of silence.

"Stang, why hasn't he exploded by now?" asks Drache. "In the past, half of that would have been enough to drive him into an officer-throttling rage."

"Goes to show that does how far your father has come," Yoda replies from his perch on the counter, where he's snacking on some asparagus he found in the cooling unit. "But suffering greatly he still is. Talk to him someone must."

"I think Prime went down to speak with him..." I begin.

As if on cue, Optimus Prime, shrunken down to fit inside Kenya's home, enters the kitchen. He looks at me and sighs deeply.

"How is he?" I ask.

Unlike Grievous, Prime opts for few words to sum up the situation. "A wreck." He glances back over his shoulder. "I suggest you have a talk with him. He's going to need his family around."

I brace myself and proceed through the house and into Kenya's bedroom -- which isn't hard to find, as it has a large Return of the Jedi poster on the outside of the door.

Nothing has been touched since Kenya left. Clothes and books still litter the floor, and her stuffed-animal-covered bed is unmade. And yes, Star Wars collectibles are everywhere, with Vader's mask dominating. Posters bearing dragons and Star Wars characters pattern the walls and even the ceiling, statues of dragons, unicorns, and Vader clutter the shelves, and dominating the decor are two cardboard standups across from the bed -- Darth Vader and a stormtrooper.

Father sits on the bed, holding something in his hand and staring at it. I look closer and see its one of the statues Kenya made for Fandemonium, one that didn't sell. It's a dark knight on a black, bat-winged horse.

"Are you all right?" Dumb question, I know. I was never an expert on the art of conversation.

"I don't know," he murmurs, not looking up.

I sit down beside him. "She's my friend too, Father. And I'm going to help you get her back."

His shoulders slump further. "Luke... I love her. But... your mother... I love her as well... how can I betray Padme again?"

I don't have an answer for that.

"I turned on your mother," he continues. "You know that. I hurt her deeply. I have no desire to hurt her more. But... but I can't lose Kenya either."

"You won't hurt her," I reply. "Father, she would want you to be happy. She wouldn't want you or anyone who cared about you to suffer. In fact, if she were here, I'd bet she'd be picking up a blaster and demanding the search begin."

Father choked out a laugh. "Yes... I think she would."

I place a hand on his shoulder. "We will get her back, Father. I promise. But only if we do something about it. Sitting here grieving won't help Kenya any."

He nods slowly. "Then I suppose I had better get started."

Maul Reporting: CRISIS

This is Darth Maul reporting. The unthinkable has just occured.

I am aware that, under most circumstances, Lord Vader posts when Kenya is unable to for whatever reasons. However, neither she nor the Dark Lord (excuse me, former Dark Lord) are in any position to post at the moment, so it falls upon me, the only other being in this household who knows Kenya's password, to update the blog readers.

Kenya is no longer with us. Let me explain.

Yesterday, Kenya departed her workplace to run an errand during her afternoon break -- and never returned. To preserve her job, Vader and I took turns at it, one of us shelving the books while the other kept an eye out for her. When her shift ended and there was still no sign of her, we "appropriated" her Taurus -- abandoned at the local grocery store -- and began the search.

"She's obviously not in town," I told Vader three hours later, after we had searched every street twice and neither seen nor felt her presence. "I propose we return to her home and organize a wider search."

"Where would she go?" Vader replied, oblivious to me. "This is totally unlike her. She was never one to spontaneously run off. The only explanation is that she has been captured..."

"All the more reason to organize a search," I repeated. "Drive this junkheap home."

Once there, we alerted the members of the Resistance to Kenya's disappearance, and we were in the process of gathering volunteers for the mission when I felt a distinct chill... one I had only ever felt in the presence of my Master...

Trisha screamed. I whirled, my lightsaber drawn and one end ignited.

Kenya stood in the driveway, wearing an odd smile that looked out of place on her face. When she had gone to work this morning, she had been wearing jeans and a navy-blue Lilo & Stitch T-shirt; now she was clad in a hooded cloak, velvet dress, gloves, and boots, all the same shade of deepest black. Her hands were clasped neatly before her, and there was something odd about her eyes...

"So," she said smoothly, "Maul has turned from the dark side." She stared into my eyes, and her smile turned into a smirk. "Or so he thinks."

"What are you talking about, Kenya?" Vader demanded.

She laughed mockingly. "Your little friend, Lord Vader, will not be returning... unless you pay MY price."

Vader froze, staring at the creature before him. His voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "Palpatine?"

Luke and Yoda ignited their sabers, and Jango, Drache, Han, and Leia leveled blasters.

"No!" ordered Vader. "Hold your fire!"

"Yes, friends, hold your fire." Palpatine smiled through Kenya's lips. "You have no wish to damage your friend, even if it means letting your greatest foe live."

Vader stalked forward, fists clenched. "Let -- her -- GO!"

"Do you honestly think I'm going to obey your commands?" Palpatine replied, arching Kenya's eyebrows. "No, my friend. If you want Kenya back, you must pay my price. Hand Luke Skywalker over, and I'll release your friend."

That stopped Vader in his tracks. He stared at the being who was at once his truest friend and the most loathsome beast in the galaxy, radiating shock and fear.

Palpatine laughed indulgently. "This is quite precious, you know. You've been burned time and again by giving your heart to someone. One would think you'd have learned your lesson by now. But no, instead you have lost your heart, not once, but twice -- once to a son that you never knew... and once to a no-account fangirl on a backwater world, one who is not only half your age but of a completely incompatible religion, too."

"They're friends," Jango snarled. "Something YOU have never known, you putrid sack of vomit."

Again that hideous laugh, made all the worse by coming from Kenya's throat. "Friends? Or something more? Come now, Vader. Search your feelings. You know this is more than friendship."

Vader said nothing. He did not agree with Palpatine's assessment... nor did he deny it.

"Let her go," he pleaded. "I'll do anything..."

"Hand over your son, then, and I will return her to you."

Vader trembled even as he shook his head. "Except that. That is the one thing I cannot give you."

"Then you have resigned your... friend... to her fate." Palpatine raised Kenya's hand, and a stream of blue lightning launched itself at Vader.

Vader did nothing to block or evade the blow, as if preferring destruction to defense. Not that he could have done much -- his bulk made him slow, and his mechanical hands were useless against Force-lightning. But I was quicker, and I had the advantage of two biological hands, and I was between the two of them in an instant, deflecting the blast before it could touch him.

Palpatine lowered Kenya's arm, glowering at me. "You should have known better than to interfere, Maul. I was fully prepared to leave you be, for you are no use to me. But you have now aligned yourself firmly against me. You will pay for your betrayal."

"I have been firmly against you for some time," I countered. "And which one of us betrayed the other first?"

"How did he do that?" gaped Trisha. "Kenya's not Force-strong..."

"No, she is not naturally Force-strong," Palpatine replied. "But I must thank her for granting me the opportunity to read her fan fiction during the peace talks so long ago. For it was her idea, her theory, that one could have the Force bestowed upon them..."

"By blood transfusion," Luke finished, stunned.

Palpatine nodded Kenya's head. "Of course, being in this female body is rather... awkward. I suppose I could get used to it. Unless..." And here Kenya's mouth curled in an evil grin. "Unless you change your mind, Vader."

Vader fell to his knees, shaking.

"My offer still stands, Vader. Luke or Kenya. The choice is yours. Contact me when you have made a decision."

And with that, the monster strode away. The trooper fool enough to try and stop him was electrocuted on the spot.

Vader seemed to collapse on himself, trembling, sobbing. Luke knelt beside his father and tried to comfort him, but to no avail.

"How could someone be so evil?" Trisha hissed.

General Drache watched the beast go. "Should I send troops after him?"

I gave a negative gesture. "For all we know, Kenya could still be in there with him. If we try to kill him, we could very well kill Kenya with him. He planned this very well."

Drache turned to me. "With Kenya gone and Vader grieving, I'm taking charge of the Resistance for the time being. I'm stationing one of Kenya's clones here to take her place until we can get her back. No use in traumatizing her family; they've been through enough already."

I nodded. "We will double our effort in finding the Horcrux. For now Kenya's life -- and Luke's -- depend on it."

I extend a warning to all readers of the blog to be on guard. We don't know what the wretched Sith is planning next.

Vader is, needless to say, an emotional wreck right now. He could use your comfort -- and your prayers.

Fan fiction will continue to be updated, for we discovered several unposted chapters of her current story on the computer. It's as if she knew this would happen...

Force help us all... and Kenya most of all.

Horse Sense

UPDATE: The wedding has been called off. I won't go into dirty details -- namely because it's none of my business to -- but things didn't work out. Dang it.

LAST NIGHT, DUSK (ABOUT 9:15 PM)

"Somebody explain to me why this requires an audience," I complain.

"Come on, none of us have seen a were-creature's change before," Luke points out.

"Excellent opportunity this is to study the mystery of lycanthropy," Yoda adds. "Rebuild the Jedi Archives we must, know you. And all the information we can obtain we need."

"That explains why you and Luke are here, but as for the Masked Marvels and the Horned Toad..."

"You haven't even seen 'X-men,' don't crack that pathetic joke," Maul complains.

"I'm on hand to help control you if necessary," Vader replies. "Besides, I'm not letting you go through this alone."

It's the night of the full moon, and I'm standing out in the middle of the pasture, knee-deep in thistles and dry weeds, wearing only a blanket to keep me modest -- clothes tend to get shredded in a hurry when a lycanthrope changes, especially when they're turning into something big. Vader, Maul, Jango, Luke, Yoda, and my "mentor" Hippolaya stand close by, Jango with a camera pointed my way. Ugh. I REALLY didn't want pics taken...

"Don't worry about them, sweetie," Hippolaya tells me. "Personally, I don't mind them being here. It takes some of the mystery away from it and, with it, some of the ignorance and fear."

"I still didn't want a bunch of guys gawking at me when I'm not wearing anything..."

"Understandable, honey." Hippolaya would not have struck me as a were-horse had I met her on the street. If I had to connect her with an animal, it probably would have been a cat -- her slanted eyes, wide Cheshire-ish grin, slightly aloof manner, and graceful way of moving. Dark-skinned with green eyes and hair an odd patchwork of brown and white, she speaks with a definite Brooklyn accent and takes to wearing flamboyantly patterned dresses and ponchos, though tonight she's just wearing a blanket, like me.

"The first time's the hardest, dear," she coaches me. "Just keep calm and let it happen. The more you fight it, the worse it is."

"Is there anything I can do, Hippolaya?" asks Vader.

"Not right now, sweetheart," she replies. "Just don't let people look until we're finished here. I'll let you know when it's safe."

Vader does a double-take, and the others snicker. I'm willing to wager no woman's ever called him "sweetheart" before.

Shmendrick, perched on Vader's shoulder, suddenly gives a high-pitched croon as the moon, gloriously full and golden, edges up over the nearby foothills. I feel a weird tremor throughout my body as my gaze fixes on the brilliant globe.

"Boys, hide your eyes!" shouts Hippolaya.

I have no idea if they've complied -- I'm not caring anymore. I straighten and stare at the moon, the blanket falling off my shoulders. The night air suddenly tastes sweet and wild, with a hint of an oncoming storm. My skin tingles, and my ears are suddenly filled with sounds far more pronounced than I'm used to...

Ouch.

I've heard all kinds of comments on the changing, everything from "hurts like Hades" to "a full-body sneeze." I had no idea what to expect. What I get is a slight pain, but nothing severe. It's more like every joint in my body is popping, every muscle tingling as if my limbs have all fallen asleep. I close my eyes, not really wanting to see my own transformation.

I'm suddenly thrown to my hands and knees as my spine refuses to hold my upright position anymore. I feel my neck arch and lengthen, my skull elongate, my fists fuse into hooves. I'm bigger, I can feel that, and stronger...

It takes me a few minutes before the weird sensations pass. I dare opening my eyes.

Whoa! Even sight's different -- slightly sharper, with a much broader peripheral vision but a strange blank spot dead ahead, as if my nose is in the way. I blink, then shake my head, feeling my long mane brush my neck. I lift one hoof at a time, then flick my suddenly mobile ears, then swish my newly acquired tail. Hmmm. This is going to take some getting used to...

You can look now, boys, Hippolaya says -- or rather, telepathizes. Horse lips aren't very suited to human speech.

"Whoa," breathes Luke.

"Impressive," Maul comments.

Jango holds up the camera and clicks away. I'll get him for this...

Hippolaya's looks are no surprise -- I first saw her at the rodeo last month. She's an Apaloosa, her body patterned with white and brown in an eye-catching design. I wonder how I look...

"Kenya," Vader says hesitantly, "can you understand me?"

I'm a lycanthrope, not an idiot, I retort. Of course I can understand you. I raise my head and do a kind of prance-trot over to him. How do I look?

"Beautiful," he tells me, and he inserts the picture in my mind -- dappled gray-silver, with a white mane and tail and white feathering around the hooves. My eyes remain the same shade of gray-blue, however.

Jango, I get first dibs on pics, I tell him.

"Aw, no posting them on the blog?" he retorts, laughing.

Don't make me bite you, you little...

Enough, dear, he's just teasing you, Hippolaya tells me. You feeling all right? Anything still hurt?

No, why?

Good. You feel up to a little run around the neighborhood?

Sure.

"Will you be needing my assistance?" Vader asks.

Seems like your friend's doing a good enough job of keeping her head, Hippolaya assures him. But we'll holler if we need you. Thanks for standing by. She turns to me. Race you to the next field, sweetie?

See you there, I reply, and I revel in my newfound speed.

***

THIS MORNING, DAWN (ABOUT 6:45 AM)

Jango and Vader are uploading pics onto the computer when I stagger in, exhausted and wrapped up in a blanket, leaves caught in my hair. Vader snorts as if trying hard not to laugh.

"I take it you ended up losing your head at some point?" he asks.

"No, dang Animal Control," I groan. "We spent half the night running from them. Some idiot called us in as escapees, I guess."

"My apologies."

"Not your fault. Did the pictures turn out?"

Jango growls. "You didn't tell me I had to have the flash on for these to turn out!"

"It's called reading the manual, pal. Try it sometime."

Now that I've had the opportunity to experience my horse form, Hippolaya says I'm ready to learn how to change at will. Let's hope these lessons are successful...

Kenya Starflight's Advice For Making it Through Fandemonium (Mostly) Alive and Sane

Kenya Starflight's Advice For Making it Through Fandemonium (Mostly) Alive and Sane

DISCLAIMER: Kenya Starflight and associates claim no responsibility for any injuries sustained from following these rules.

Opinions expressed here are opinions of the blogger only.

Also, I haven't been to any conventions outside of Fandemonium, so the rules and circumstances at other events may differ.

* Do not attempt to impress people by flaunting your knowledge of your particular fandom. There will ALWAYS be someone out there who knows more than you do.

* Take advantage of any and all free food and water, as you will generally be too overscheduled to take a lunch or dinner break.

* People who take naps in the convention center do so at their own risk.

* If programs are available, acquire one as soon as possible. These tend to run out FAST, and it's crucial you have one, as they often have handy information such as event schedules, maps of the convention center, rules and guidelines, and announcements of related events.

* Try to use the bathroom well before any scheduled costume contests or CosPlays. You don't want to have to hold it for forty-five minutes while waiting for everyone to touch up their makeup.

* Follow the 6-2-1 rule for conventions -- 6 hours of sleep, 2 meals, and 1 shower for every day of the convention.

* As a general rule, babies and young children at conventions are pretty much used to seeing weird stuff. So you generally won't freak them into a screaming fit if you approach them while in costume.

* Conversely, you just MIGHT freak the convention-venue employees out if you approach them in costume. Most of these people will have been working long hours and be on edge already. Don't make their jobs harder than they have to be.

* If selling stuff at a convention's Artist's Alley, don't expect to make a lot of money. In fact, count yourself lucky if you get your original investment back.

* If you happen to be selling stuff and someone says "I'll be back to buy later," assume they won't be. That's usually just a cop-out line.

* If you happen to be selling stuff, bring business cards and hand them out to anything living that comes within ten feet of your table. You never know what might come of it. (I sparked several sales and got a gamer-store owner to accept some statues on consignment just by asking if people wanted business cards.)

* It is not necessary to be familiar with whatever fandom is featured in a fanfilm or CosPlay in order to enjoy yourself.

* Be careful when bringing fake lightsabers to conventions. Young men at these events tend to be... how to put this... overeager, and are bound to make ribald jokes if you happen to hold your saber in the wrong place.

* If you are a straight young woman, try not to freak out when an admitted lesbian tells you that you look hot in your costume.

* If it is your goal to get through Fandemonium without being humiliated, then do NOT volunteer for ANYTHING!

* If, however, you came to Fandemonium to have a good time regardless of the humiliation factor, by all means volunteer for things. You just might have some fun.

* Stay away from any in-progress lightsaber duels unless you are wearing body armor.

* If you do something you consider cool, such as fighting a Han Solo lookalike while in Darth Vader armor, no one will remember seeing it.

* If, however, you do something incredibly stupid, such as doing a chicken impersonation in a Darth Vader costume, fifty people will remember seeing it AND someone will take pictures for the Fandemonium website.

* Be wary of events that require you to sign a legal waiver.

* Do not decline anything free. I'm totally serious on this one -- accept anything anyone gives you, even if you end up throwing it away five minutes later. If you turn someone down, they might not give anything to you again, and next time they might have something really cool to give away! (Over the three-day Fandemonium I received a convention program, a CosPlay program, a set of fairy-king goggles, a white T-shirt with "Fandemonium 2006" markered onto the front, countless flyers and business cards, a Snickers bar, a roll of Peppermint Lifesavers, a mystery novel written by a self-published author, a beautiful matted faerie picture, a cheapo fake Transformer action figure... and a mint-in-the-package Celebration III Darth Vader action figure with James Earl Jones-recorded Voice Box. Yes, totally free.)

* Don't laugh at the CosPlayers' costumes. They probably cost more than you make in a month.

* If you don't know what someone is dressed as, chances are they're an anime character.

* Don't engage in strenuous physical activity while wearing a heavy costume and mask. If you choose to do so, drink LOTS of water afterward.

* By all means visit neighboring businesses during lulls in the action and ham it up. Spread the word that there's a party going on and they should be there.

* While spreading the word, try not to get hit by a car. Masks generally don't offer a lot of peripheral vision.

* If bringing "fictional" characters to Fandemonium, let them know ahead of time that they'll be expected to stay on good behavior, that autographs will most likely be demanded, and it is usually illegal to kill fangirls even if said fangirls just pinched their rear end.

* Though it may seem like a good idea at the time, PLEASE do not bring a real weapon into the convention. It only invites trouble.

* If you're a fanfic writer, avoid workshops or seminars that promise to show you how to turn your fanfiction into real fiction, especially if the speaker is a published author. Most published authors have a fairly low opinion of fanfic writers and don't have a lot of useful things to say to them other than "Quit writing fanfic and write something publishable -- fanfic's useless!"

* If you choose to dress as Vader, be prepared to accept a lot of hugs. For some strange reason people like to hug and kiss Vader. Don't ask me why. (Also be prepared to wash off your mask when you get home.)

And lastly, have fun!

I shall return for Fandemonium 2007! (But I'm not selling anything next year, I'd rather attend for the fun of it...)

Statues Part I

Okay, so technically the FIRST post should have been "Statues Part I" and the SECOND post "Statues Part II," but I knew people were going to see the second post first, as it would be closer to the top of the page. So I named them out of order... sorta. Sorry if I confuse a lot of people.

Fandemonium is tomorrow, and I'm pretty nervous. This is my first attempt at selling my figures in a public venue (I've made some by commission before), and I have NO idea what to expect. (I guess I should be lucky my table's in a fairly open Artist's Alley and not in a cramped stuffy Dealer Room...)

Because some people have requested pics, I have decided to post them on the blog. Enjoy.

And yes, I'm pretty much sick of Sculpey clay right now...

Ornaments and/or dangles. I made a Harry Seeker to go with the Malfoy Seeker on the right, but I didn't get him done in time to photograph.

The hatching dragon on the right was the first figure I made for the convention. I was going to make a whole series of aliens (in chef's hat, hula-girl gear, Mexican sombrero, etc.) to go with the hitchhiker on the left, but I ran out of time and green clay.

The first thing I ever made out of Sculpey clay was a dragon, and they are still my favorite creature to make. I call the statue of the dragon and knight on the left "Oh Crap!"

Gary Larson has his cows, I have my dragons. Shmendrick posed for the dragon on the left, and yes, that's what he looks like. (Okay, so he didn't pose, he was sleeping, but the dang thing doesn't hold still long enough anyway...)

Statues Part II

More statues...

This picture turned out a bit fuzzy. Um... the one on the left is supposed to be a gryphon, the one on the right a fairy on a toadstool.

Just a couple of generic wizards. Making people is not my strong point.

I found out the hard way that horses are difficult to sculpt. I must have squashed the one on the left five times before I was finally satisfied with it.

Luke, Leia, Yoda, and Vader agreed to pose for their pics. I'm afraid Luke turned out a little bug-eyed and Vader's feet bent during the baking, so he looks a bit tipsy. All my co-workers want copies of Yoda after the convention.

I think I got better at making the equines as I went along.

Potter-verse characters. No, Harry is NOT picking his nose with his wand, the camera angle was just bad.

More horses. The one on the right is a hanging ornament

I had a lot of fun making the droids. They were originally going to be put together as one statue, but Artoo turned out too big and needed his own base.

Car Trouble, or the Will of the Force?

I really wasn't too hot on going to Oregon this weekend. Sure, I liked hanging out with extended family. Sure, Oregon's pretty country -- I love visiting Portland (if only to hang out at Powell's, the bookstore that's three stories high and takes up an entire city block), going to the coast, and enjoying GREEN forests for a change. But I thought I had better things to do with my time. After all, Fandemonium was rapidly approaching, and I still had stuff to prepare for my table, not to mention polishing up on my CosPlay skills and trying to update "Walk Like Men" and finish GQD's story (sorry I haven't finished the next chapter, I'm really trying!)... plus we have a new war to fight and a Horcrux to find...

But Mom says I'm going, Grandpa's expecting me and they've already paid for me to go on the white-water rafting trip, so I guess I'm going. Eh, I guess it could be worse... wait, rafting? As in white-water rafting? Oh my...

I've heard plenty of horror stories about white-water rafting (and my aunt just HAD to tell me about a teenage girl who'd died a week earlier on the same river we were rafting), so I almost didn't get on the raft. But to my immense surprise, I actually enjoyed it. No one fell out (except Kevin, who was pushed out by my uncle, and Vader, who made the mistake of trying to stand in the raft), the rapids weren't too freaky, and we all had a good time. Even Vader, not the biggest water fan, loved it.

Then on the way home this Sunday, I began to wish I'd stayed home again.

"Uh-oh," Robin said uneasily as the van began slowing to a halt on the freeway.

"What?" I asked, turning off my headphoes in the middle of "Music of the Night."

"I think we just lost the transmission."

Oh crap. The van had broken down. Again. And in the middle of nowhere, it appeared.

Robin pulled over, and he and Vader inspected the transmission. I stayed in the vehicle, turning up my headphones as if it could somehow drown out the situation we were in. A few minutes later, Vader reached into the van and jerked off the headphones.

"Get out," he informed me. "We're walking."

"Walking where?" I demanded. "There's nothing here!"

"There's a town a mile and a half down the road," he told me. "The damage to the transmission is beyond my skills; our best hope is to get to town and see if there is a repair shop open."

Ever walked along the side of a busy interstate? Not fun. Especially when a semi whizzes past you not three feet away going 70 mph, or when pain-in-the-butt motorists honk and laugh. Kevin asked Vader if he would carry him part of the way (I don't know if he was joking or not), but Vader gave him a flat no.

At the truck stop/McDonalds/Subway where we took refuge, we borrowed a phone book and made some calls, only to find all repair shops, car rental places, and U-Haul establishments were closed. The nearest hotel was eight miles away, there was no taxi service in town, and we knew no one in the area who could give us a ride. And after Vader commed home for assistance, he informed me all shuttles and transports for the Terran Resistance had been grounded for maintenance. Sithspit. We were stuck.

"I'll try calling a friend of mine," offered Robin. "He might give us a ride."

"Or call Spencer,*" added Kevin.

"Spencer?" Vader repeated. "Your half-insane stepbrother?"

"He's not half-insane," I told him. "He's full-bore loony. There's a difference. And yes, he just MIGHT be crazy enough to drive the three hours out here and back to pick us up."

Kevin stood. "As long as we're here, we might as well eat. I'll take orders and pay."

I sighed and pulled out my book. Any way we looked at it, it looked like we were going to be here awhile...

Someone's hand rested on my shoulder. Looking over, I saw it was Vader's.

"Act casual, but look at the door," he advised.

I glanced at the entrance. Two scary-looking truckers and a punk in a hooded sweatshirt, from the look of things. I failed to see what Vader was talking about here.

The truckers sidled up to the McDonald's counter for dinner, while the punk strolled nonchalantly over to sit in the booth next to our table. His dark green Packers sweatshirt looked as if it had been dug out of a dumpster, but quite in contrast his jeans and athletic shoes seemed almost brand new. And he wore gloves, strangely enough. I'd never seen anyone wear gloves with this kind of getup...

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm not one to be trifled with," he replied, looking up and tugging the hood of his sweatshirt back just enough for me to glimpse his face.

"Admiral Thrawn," Vader murmured. "What sort of ultimatum does the Emperor wish to deliver now?"

The sapphire-skinned Grand Admiral shook his head. "I no longer work for the Emperor."

I couldn't help but arch an eyebrow skeptically. I hadn't read Timothy Zahn's Thrawn books, but from everything I'd heard Thrawn wasn't exactly a trustworthy soul. Was this another trap?

"I belong to a faction of Imperial officers who have formed a secret alliance against the Emperor," Thrawn explained. "We have been keeping our ears open, absobing what information we can, in an effort to overthrow him once and for all. Believe me, this Horcrux deal has not made us any happier than it has made you."

"Because one of you wanted to ursurp his power," Vader retorted.

"Originally," he confessed. "But it has gone farther than that. The man is mad, making deals with a sadistic race of fanatical aliens and a snake-hearted wizard, duping the lycanthropes into joining his cause... though now those last are deserting us in droves. Men are defecting to the Alliance at an alarming rate -- not just stormtroopers, but high-ranking officers, even Royal Guards! It says something about the state of affairs in the Empire if even Palpatine's personal guards are turning their coats.

"Frankly, Lord Vader, we of the Empire are frightened. Frightened of what the Emperor might attempt next. He has forged alliances with despicable allies. He has created a Horcrux, an artifact I hear takes murder to create. He has plotted to use and destroy the were-beasts for his own twisted ends. And I am quite honestly scared witless just thinking about what he might do next."

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Vader. "Use this wisely. It is all we can give you. I'm sorry there isn't more, but we will continue to listen and send more information when we can."

Vader activated the datapad and scanned through its contents. "Troop movements... locations of Vong encampments... names and descriptions of Voldemort's followers..." He looked a moment longer, then put the datapad in my purse. "You have aided us greatly, Thrawn. We cannot thank you enough."

"Do you know where the Horcrux is?" I asked. It was a long shot, but...

"The Emperor had a party of loyal men transport it to an undisclosed location," Thrawn replied. "Then he had those men killed so they could never betray its location. The most I can tell you is that it is guarded by dementors... and something else."

"Something else?" I repeated. That didn't sound good.

"I have no idea what... but they say it's proof of how low the Emperor can go." He stood. "Thank the Force you were here. I had stopped here for dinner, fully intending on scouring Oregon for you. What trick of fate brought us here at the same time?"

"Vehicle trouble," Vader answered, exchanging a look with me. "Or the will of the Force."

***

To make a long story short, we made it home (at 5 AM, but in one piece), and I have vowed NEVER to ride in that piece-of-junk van again as long as I live.

Thrawn's information has proven invaluable -- the Alliance, beefed up by the flood of recruits from the Empire, has struck at and destroyed a number of outposts and encampments, and by following troop movements we've determined three possible locations for the Emperor's Horcrux. I thank the man and his comrades and wish him luck. He has sanctuary here if he needs it.

The Force does work in mysterious ways -- though did it HAVE to take out the transmission?