Naluma leaned her back into Luke's chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. For the first time in over a year she wasn't wearing a blasted Jedi uniform, and neither was he. And there was no way she was donning a utility belt with her sundress. At least the belt with two lightsabers swinging from it didn't look too out of place over Luke's slacks.

The Nabooan customs and immigration line on the Theed landing platform was taking forever, but she didn't care as long as she was in the sunlight. The blessedly hot sunlight. Even in her purple halter sundress she was warm. The slight breeze was just enough to dry the perspiration. It made waiting in line a pleasure, as long as she was with Luke.

Eventually, they reached the customs agent, a compact woman in a uniform of deep blue and maroon piping. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her curly hair was plastered to her scalp. "Passports and declarations, please."

While Luke fished out their papers, Naluma grabbed her New Republic identification cylinder from her spaghetti-strap clutch. The heavenly scent of roasted meat from the food carts across the terminal drew her like a tractor beam. Naluma's stomach grumbled like a Hutt's.

Agent Sorcha, as her name tag read, handed them back their code cylinders. "What brings you to Naboo, Master Skywalker and Jedi Fau."

"Sh." Luke looked around and asked, "Could you keep it down? We're trying to get away. Personal vacation."

She sized them up before asking, "Then why the lightsabers?" Both Naluma's and Luke's swung on his belt.

Naluma grimaced.

"Never go anywhere without them. It's part of the code," Luke said.

The official crossed her arms and blocked the turnstile. "I'm sorry, but we cannot allow anyone to bring weapons onto the planet. They will need to remain on your craft."

Luke cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at Naluma.

She grinned. Might as well.

The Jedi Master lifted his long fingers and waved them in front of the agent's face. "We can keep our weapons."

She repeated with a blank face, "You can keep your weapons."

"There is no need to declare them."

"There is no need to declare them."

"Enjoy your visit."

"Enjoy your visit," she echoed as she unlocked the turnstile.

Once through, Naluma broke out in laughter. That never gets old, she sent as thought to Luke.

Oh, want to be the next victim of a Jedi mind-trick?

Don't you dare.

With the setting sun emblazoning the warm marble in an ethereal glow behind them, Luke maneuvered Naluma in front of him and ran his fingers through her long hair, for once hanging free down her back. He tilted her head in his hands and touched his lips to hers. "We're finally free. Finally here." He motioned to the sprawling city around them. "What do you want to do first?"

Her stomach growled again, speaking for her. "Dinner. That roasting ata smells so good."

Luke pulled up the map on his datapad and paged through restaurant listings. "Here's one, not too far from here. Specializes in traditional Nabooan fare. Want to try it?"

Naluma wriggled under his arm and peered over his datapad. The device scrolled pictures of braised meats, roasted seafood, steamed noodles, and rich sauces. "Yeah, that looks great." She contemplated him in his khaki slacks and light-blue plaid dress shirt. "You think they'll let us in looking like this?"

Through their Force-bond, Naluma felt him run his eyes down her figure, focusing on her ample chest accentuated by the halter top of the sundress. He spun her around, and she felt his eyes zeroing in on her bare, muscled back. The gathered skirt lifted in the breeze, displaying her long legs that were usually covered by utilitarian Jedi blacks.

With a gulp, he winked. "With you in that dress, they won't be looking at me. Trust me."

She pitched back her head and laughed, a laugh she hadn't laughed in ages. Away from the stress of the academy, in the middle of a bustling street at dusk, just her and her best friend. The only two people in the galaxy—or so it seemed.

✧ ∙ ° : * ✧ ∙ ° : * ∙ ° ✧

"Could I interest you in dessert?" The human waiter with dark, curly hair displayed a tray with fruit carved into crescents and stars, ice cream drizzled with a luscious meiloorun sauce, and a mascarpone sponge cake drizzled in decadent lishi flakes and orange liqueur.

Naluma leaned in, sampling the aroma of the dark lishi flakes on the cake. She shot Luke a cheeky smile. "Share one with me?"

"Sure."

As the waiter set the plate and two forks on the table, he said, "May I also interest you in a Jogan fruit brandy or perhaps Daruvvian champagne to celebrate The Festival of Light tonight?" He gestured to the lake beyond the edge of the terrace, about ten meters below them. Crowds had settled around the edges on this warm summer night.

"What's this festival?" Naluma asked.

"It is our annual festival to celebrate our joining the Republic 876 years ago today." His genuine smile beamed. "You have purchased The Festival of Light dinner package, complete with dessert and liqueur and prime seating at the edge of the terrace. The lake will come to life with dancing waters and the heavens with cascading skyrockets. The Theed National Orchestra will tell the story of our planet through our cultural music."

Naluma caressed Luke's hand across the table and grinned. "You had this planned all along, didn't you?"

He nodded and leaned in for a kiss.

She playfully hit his arm. "You set me up with Cantonica and Felucia. You knew I wouldn't want to go there."

Raising a finger, he turned his attention to the server. "Could you bring us two flutes of sparkling fruit juice? No alcohol, please."

"Certainly, sir." The waiter bowed slightly, still holding his tray level, and headed to the bar.

Nibbling on a bite of the rich custard-like cake and sucking the lishi off the fork, she asked, "How long have you been planning this?"

"A few months. Since ..."

Darkness sullying an otherwise happy time, they said his name in unison, "... Dashka." The thoughts about the student who died a few months earlier on a training expedition overtook the moment. The distractions Luke had planned seemed to be for no—

A cello resonated from the orchestra on the shoreline. A trio of cymbals joined as jets of water shot into the evening sky. Fountains of light joined the rest of the musicians, and Naluma spotted the conductor in front of her musical ensemble. The light migrated to the quick bursts of gushing water.

Illuminated in blues and greens, dancing streams of water interrupted their sadness over the student who died on a training excursion. Luke scooted his chair beside Naluma and wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders.

Rivulets flowed through the air, transforming across the colors of the rainbow now as the orchestra segued into a rondo. The water collapsed into the lake before it sprang up as a thulian pink flower in the center, the petals pulsating outward toward the beaches. Popping geysers turning purple, yellow, red, and aqua cavorted to the pulsing tympani and burgeoning brass.

The water picked up a variety of textures, crisscrossing in the front while undulating toward the center. Soon, spurts of water shot into the air, some rippling across in sequence and others working to a different pattern. The colors and the patterns constantly wavering until a single stream climbed into the air, never breaking from its source, ever rising. The fountain burbled at twenty meters for a few seconds before plunging into the lake once more. [2029 words]

Mesmerized, Naluma barely registered Luke running his fingers through her hair. Occasionally, he leaned against her and nuzzled her neck, his earthy smell driving her wild.

At a rest in the movement of the music and display, Naluma sipped her sparkling fruit juice. "Thank you, Luke. This is wonderful!"

"I'm sorry you miss out on so much at the academy, 'Luma." He took a swig from his flute, too. "I hope this makes up—"

A barrage of fireworks cannoned over his last words. Sparkling gold streamers shot across the sky as the water kicked up again. The orchestra strengthened their notes to the synchronized visual display, capturing Naluma's attention once more. She didn't want it to end. Everything was idyllic here—the food, the music, the show, but most of all, the company, her Force-bonded love—Luke.

✧ ∙ ° : * ✧ ∙ ° : * ∙ ° ✧

An hour later, the show concluded with a spectacular fireworks encore, Luke and Naluma walked hand-in-hand down the main street, her head resting on his shoulder.

"The hotel's not far from here. A former villa. Tourist company rents it out to guests, ensuring privacy." Luke caught her as she stumbled on the cobble-stone street. "Easy there, 'Luma."

She pulled him to a halt in the middle of the street, the fading remnants of private pyrotechnics coloring the midnight sky behind them. "Thank you. Tonight was the best thing that ever happened to me." Stroking his face, she pressed her lips to his. Love you. But what started as chaste peck morphed into an urgent hunger, each desiring the other, to be close, to be one.

He broke it off. 'Luma, don't do that to me.

What? You were liking it.

That's the problem. You know we can't. He linked his arm into hers and spoke aloud, "Let's just get to the hotel. I think we could both use a good night's sleep."

✧ ∙ ° : * ✧ ∙ ° : * ∙ ° ✧

After a few hundred meters in awkward silence, they arrived at the villa. The lobby bustled with people drinking and mingling.

Luke pushed his way to the registration desk, Naluma beside him. "I'd like to check in. Two rooms for Fau."

The dark-haired girl with olive complexion and almond-shaped eyes sputtered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fau, but there must be some mistake. We only have one room for you."

"I specifically reserved your two best rooms."

She bowed slightly and blushed, flashing a sincere smile. "I can get my manager, but we're all booked up because of the festival."

Naluma placed her hand on Luke's. "No, that's okay. Can you bring in a cot?"

The girl was tearing up. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I wish I could, but we don't even have one on the premises."

"Never mind. We'll take the room." Grabbing the datapad, Naluma scrawled her name on the registration receipt. "I'm Fau—he's ... well, he's someone who might be sleeping on the floor tonight."

"Ma'am, I need your ID cylinders. Republic policy." The girl took Naluma's first and then Luke's. Her eyes widened and so did her mouth. "You're Luke Sk—"

"Yes, he is. But we'd appreciate your keeping that to yourself." Naluma snatched the keys from the girl. "Did the servodroid deliver our luggage?"

The clerk scanned through her terminal. "Yes, ma'am. Already unpacked in the Honeymoon Suite for you. The suite boasts a private sitting room and overlooks the southern shore. The climbing candlewick flowers are fragrant treats for the senses. Their pale orange-and-gold luminescent petals surround your secluded terrace."

Naluma turned on Luke, eyes glaring and mouth scrunched tight. Luke, the Honeymoon Suite? You weren't even going to ask me first.

I didn't reserve it, Naluma. We had two separate rooms. He placed his arm around her waist. "Come on, Mid-Rim problems. At least we aren't in a tent buried in three meters of snow in Wild Space."

"Thank the Force!" Naluma grinned as she took his proffered hand.

Luke bowed at the waist as they had seen actors do in old vids. "My lady, your chamber awaits. Would you accompany me?"

"Gladly, sir knight."