In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 8

The lush, ornately opulent surroundings of the huge Main Audience Chamber were silent and empty in the small hours of the morning, the room dim, its vast clusters of jewel-bright, hand-blown light-globes muted to reflect only the slightest luminosity onto the rich gold of the distant, gracefully arched ceiling, its subtle radiance reflecting down to cast diffuse shadows into the velvet gloom far below.

On the high dais, the ornate, gilded Sunburst Throne was set on a pale disc of rare polished stone, inlaid with a motif in rust-red and indigo blue. It had been taken from the Council Chamber of the old Jedi Temple, and it never ceased to delight Palpatine that the throne from which he ruled his Empire was set on a floor which he would once have been forbidden to stand upon.

The throne itself, a relic from centuries past plundered from its secure hiding place in the vaults of the Jedi Temple, boasted a massive disc at its back hammered from precious metal in the image of a sun surrounded by flares, the lowest flames touching the floor, the highest beyond head-height, the fluted sunbursts and the hammered sun-face caching the smallest rays of light and refracting them about the throne and its occupant.

Its true role long lost to history, the throne had always been a venerated Jedi artefact, its existence hidden, its portentious truth concealed. Because the ancient throne carried with it a hidden prophesy- if one knew specifically where to look. One which both threatened destruction and promised salvation. A new era, a greater empathy; connection beyond all known limits, referred to in both Sith prophesies of Mastery and Jedi prophesies of balance

Hidden within the intricately-tooled surface, in an unknown, archaic text upon an ancient throne were a series of inscriptions, scribed in tiny, stretched letters so distorted as to be near indecipherable within the massively complex sunburst, their origins, like that of the throne itself, lost in the mists of time. And each of these fragments quoted a citation, all of them combined providing one of the greatest prophesies known;

'Sun of Suns'

It stated obscurely, the inscription repeating about the sunburst, the heiroglyphics so distorted as to form little more than a decorative pattern.

Scholars had argued over its exact meaning for centuries, meticulously interpreting and retranslating the text many times in an effort to bring clarity to confusion, no other example of its type existing anywhere. But scattered as it was, the prophesy had always defied definition, the minutae endlessly discussed and disproved, many versions and interpretations existing.

What they had needed, it seemed, was a key. Ironic then, that at the time the key came into existence, the Jedi were all but gone - that by the time this key first saw the throne, they had dwindled to just one survivor, and he hidden in the wilds, a forgotten hermit.

Yes, the vaunted Sunburst Throne had, considering its credentials, seemed the natural choice when Palpatine had created his Throne Room, the finalisation of the massive behemoth of his ornate Imperial Palace completed almost ten years after he had cemented his reign. All that he had felt the need to add was a heavy, sumptuously carved footrest, engraved with images of his far-reaching Empire, the allegory hardly subtle.

Now he sat alone, his Empire beneath his feet, lost in thought. The room was silent and still, Court long-since dismissed, though Palpatine had remained here, in his seat of power. Even twenty-four years after he had taken control, he still gloried in being here. Now more than ever, because if he held Skywalker - commanded his loyalty - then everything was possible.

No more Jedi, no more prophesies or portent.

Now, finally, he held the key to the prophesy. He had known it for two years now; since he had followed that distant, whispered twist in the Force to his Throne Room to find the boy there, drawn back into the shadows, staring hypnotized at the throne; the Seat of Prophesy. Unaware of his Master's close presence, he'd stood, transfixed, as moments ticked into minutes and minutes dragged unmarked. On impulse, Palpatine had invited the boy to read the inscription, knowing that there was no way that he could even know of its existence, let alone of how to decipher it.

And the boy had read it. Just like that. As if it were the most natural thing in the world - which perhaps to him it was. The key to the prophesy.

Palpatine narrowed yellow-flecked eyes, contemplating his meeting with Skywalker, aware of the fundamental shift in attitude and commitment evidenced in his actions and intent tonight, immensely pleased with the outcome of his gamble. Because it had been a gamble - one which had gathered pace at an unexpected rate, moving from a minor contrivance to a major campaign without any further interference from its instigator. Palpatine had publicly recognised Skywalker as Heir in a ploy to draw him further into his new position and life and so finally separate him from the Rebellion to which he still held some sense of allegiance, all be it reluctant.

The end result had spiralled beyond all expectations.

His entire demeanour had changed- had been changed by this experience, as if some final deeply-rooted barrier that had hindered and held him for so long had fallen away and he had stepped free; raw potential realised.

The Sith that Palpatine had seen contained behind those ice-blue eyes the very first time they had met had finally come to the fore. Self-assured and incisive, wilfully independent, the volatile edge which had always plagued Vader was tempered in his son with a cool, calculating quality which afforded perspective - sometimes too much so, Palpatine felt. There was far more going on behind that detached, dispassionate facade than the boy was willing to admit, that much was obvious.

It would make him harder to control of course, but that was all part of the game.

He'd once wondered whether he would ever bring this wild thing to heel, whether he would ever truly control it. Even now, some tiny part of Palpatine questioned whether he was training a Sith apprentice...or creating a Master. That had never been a concern with his father, who had lost so much of his connection at Obi-Wan's hand and had always felt in some way beholden to Palpatine, having known him since childhood. But his son was different; he had no such allegiance, and while Palpatine had gone to great lengths to clarify to Skywalker that his own abilities were greater when the boy had first arrived, they both knew now that this was no longer the case- that they were at the very least equally gifted.

Oh, Skywalker held a healthy respect for his Master - for his power and his position and his ruthless will - but more and more as his confidence increased, the fact was that if he truly wanted to do something, the boy would never let caution sway his resolve. He was too headstrong and too spirited and too stubborn to ever do that.

Yet he still deferred to his Master's will in the end - would hold absolutely firm for so long then finally, at some private impasse, would concede. And to date, Palpatine had never quite managed to isolate what that was... because it wasn't threat of force. That was simply a punishment that he knew he would have to endure when he had gone too far. It never actually stopped him from his next insubordination, it simply made him choose them with care.

So it was something else which hindered, some greater threat which held him in check- and Palpatine needed to know what that was. Needed that power, that ultimate threat and control in his own hands, because without it he never truly knew whether his Wolf was merely waiting for its moment to strike.

Lost in his musings, Palpatine felt the vision tingle up his spine, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck and freezing the air in his lungs as he fell willingly back into its all-encompassing power-

... ... ...

... ... ... ... ...

He saw again the wolf in the night, the feral creature which had haunted his visions for two long decades.

It whispered through the darkness, wild and capricious- in a flurry of shadows it was gone and he stared at the empty stillness, waiting...

He turned, uncertain, the silence profound.

Knelt before him in mute stillness was his feral Jedi, eyes turned down in submissive defeat, the dark heavy cloak of dense, black fur draped about him, absorbing all light.

The wolf in the night...

Pull the leash too tight and he will bite - why did Palpatine know that so absolutely?

His Jedi stood, the confining sable cloak he wore slipping from his shoulders as he wordlessly held out his hand and once again, Palpatine's eyes were drawn inexorably down to the lightsaber there, smeared scarlet red, the colour of anger and passion and betrayal...

Vader's lightsaber - Palpatine wondered again if the boy would ultimately turn on his father.

Take it.

His Jedi said, though his lips did not move.

Palpatine looked again to the lightsaber, perfect scarlet streams seeping over the inactive hilt, running in ruby rivulets, dripping in dark drops from his Jedi's fingers to pool on the floor at Palpatine's feet, soaking a stain into the trailing hem of his cloak...

Something tugged at Palpatine's mind as never before, making his heart skip a beat in trepidation - in...fear.

His Wolf remained silent and impassive but something... something had changed in his eyes...

Take it...or it will kill you.

Palpatine looked up at this - never before had this been part of the vision.

"Vader?"

His wolf said nothing, merely held out the blood-wet saber, the pool of scarlet beneath it spreading out unevenly, fed by a trailing, glutinous trickle of blood which still oozed unevenly down the metal hilt.

Liquid life, rich and viscous.

Liquid death, weeping ruby tears.

Death...The lightsaber was not activated, but he could hear the bass hum of that non-existent blade, the hiss of superheated light.

Death...

... ... ... ... ...

... ... ...

Reality ripped through the vision, tearing away contact and leaving Palpatine to a still, solitary silence, unsettled and isolated in the bleak solitude of the huge, empty room.

.

.

.

Reece entered the dark drawing room, his charge stood quietly before the tall bank of windows, gazing out into the night. "It went as planned, my Lord?"

Luke shrugged without turning, "As much as these things ever can."

"But the Emperor is satisfied?" Reece pushed.

"For now." Luke said simply.

"Then we should proceed?"

Luke paused a long time in consideration, some part of him still unwilling to commit to a course of action which, once begun, would be difficult to escape or derail. But he'd delayed and procrastinated for too long now, and look what it had gained him. The galaxy had moved on and he'd been left floundering and vulnerable, and paid the price.

Palpatine had spent a great deal of time and effort tieing Luke's hands, and now Luke would have to invest much the same to extricate himself. And at present, there were very few people he trusted enough to depend on in this. Reece was one of them, as was Hallin. Mara was most definitely not; likewise his father.

As for the Alliance... he had hoped that he could open a dialogue with them and avoid direct conflict but that too seemed out of the question now. Still, the chances of their agreeing to his terms had always been remote... becoming more so with every passing year. What he needed was a change in their leadership, but that had always remained beyond his control - until now. Now was the moment that he could move forward beneath the cover of vengeance and retribution.

It was the perfect alibi because he genuinely wanted it, and that would be all that his Master would sense. And those little pangs of guilt which had whispered at the corners of his mind for so long were finally falling to silence, struck dumb by the reality of his betrayal.

How could he feel guilty for stopping someone who was trying to destroy him? It was simply self-defence. Survival of the fittest, laws of the wild. He'd run with the pack long enough now to understand that the only way to stop others snapping at his heels was to turn on them.

He smiled; his Master would be proud of him. But before the Sith congratulated himself too much for creating his precious 'wolf', he should realise the nature of the beast-

Palpatine had wanted commitment - well now he had it. He had his wolf. And the one driving ambition at the heart of every wolf... was to lead the pack.

"Sir?" Reece prompted gently, bringing Luke's thoughts back to the moment.

In truth, he'd already begun the campaign, having ordered Reece to contact his Bothan infiltrator and tell him to be watching The Heirs' apartments in the West Tower today. By now, the images of himself stood out on the Perlemian Apartment's wide balcony should be well on their way to the Rebellion.

"I'll contact Argot - say that the snare is set, and that we need reports of any changes in routine. You should contact Admiral Joss on an official comm and tell him to take the Peerless, the Dauntless and the Fury on a wide sweep of The Colonies by my command. Then contact him again on a secure channel and tell him to release the Specials from the 701st on their own recognisance when they reach Onderon- they're to be given the White Code. They'll start making their way to Bothan Space immediately. I want to know the moment they reach it. Contact General Reiss..."

"I'm sorry Sir- General Reiss has been reassigned to the Rim Fleet." Reece interrupted, of the commander of Luke's Core Armies- and a reliable ally.

Luke frowned, mismatched eyes narrowing, "By whom?"

"By the Emperor's command. General Veers has replaced him as head of the Core Fleet Armies - though I understand that he petitioned for this himself."

Luke turned away, frustrated, the memory of visiting his Master months earlier and seeing Veers leaving after a private audience with the Emperor coming immediately to mind. "He's an agent."

"Palpatine's?" Reece frowned, "I don't have him on my lists."

"Well then put him on. And let me know when Reiss manages to contact you on a secure channel from the Executor. I doubt we'll get anything useful from him since my father will be watching him like a hawk, but he may be useful in the future. When he makes contact, establish a secure frequency then tell him not to do so again- we'll leave him dormant for a while, until things cool down."

"And Veers?" Reece prompted.

"Tell Admiral Joss that he's an agent. He's to have no contact with the 701st." Luke said of his own squadron, which he protected absolutely from outside influence. "If he queries Joss on this, tell him to let Veers know it's by my command and direct Veers to me."

As his personal Command The Heir's Own Regiment - the 701st - maintained a visible presence onboard the Peerless as a recognised detachment, but in truth everything from squad numbers to assignments to whereabouts was carefully concealed, no more than half of the squadron being onboard the Peerless at any given time, the rest scattered in small independent covert units. There were numbers and names duly reported to Palpatine's Statistic and Intel branch on Coruscant of course. Some of them were even correct - or near enough to get past scrutiny.

It had taken Luke two years to build them up from a small, standard regiment assigned to his personal command as the 501st had been assigned to his father, to the independent, loyal, crack unit it was now. To be promoted into the 701st was the ultimate recognition in the Core Fleet, every being there recruited by Luke's own hand in recognition of exemplary conduct and consequently to date every single one was trustworthy. They had slowly been disconnected from the regular units to become a completely separate entity and while Luke was pretty sure that Palpatine's secretive Intel unit had a reasonable idea of numbers and allegiance, he also knew they had no knowledge of where the units were or what they were doing ata ny given time, and he wasn't about to let Veers change that.

Palpatine could of course revoke Luke's command of the 701st at any time, but Luke had played a discreet, delicate, calculated game and been careful to make no outward show of dissent, and he knew that his Master liked there to be no public display of mistrust between himself and his Heir, so to terminate his command of the 701st would be politically detrimental. Plus of course, he had to give his Wolf some sense of independence and autonomy... and in the final analysis, they both knew that the truth was that the unit was now so entrenched and loyal that if Palpatine gave the directive to rescind his command, Luke would simply order the majority of the committed, dedicated 701st to go covert, thus creating a stealth ex-military unit of unknown numbers and whereabouts with allegiance only to the Heir.

Necessity overcame many principles here, and over time, Luke had found that despite his early misgivings, disliking political subterfuge and artifice didn't mean that he was beyond it, nor it beyond him. He had spent his entire life enduring harsh environments and it was in his nature to fight- to survive... whether it be the deep deserts of Tatooine or the diplomatic jungle of Coruscant.

"Any orders for General Veers at this time?" Reece asked.

"Standard Fleet Manoeuvres." Luke said, then added, "I'll speak to him when the Peerless breaks orbit. Personally."

"Do you think he... has potential?"

"I very much doubt it." Luke said, "But I want to know why Palpatine removed Reiss and gave me Veers. Either he knows Reiss had split loyalties or he simply wanted another spy in my camp, which seems unlikely given that Veers' arrival is so obviously linked with the Emperor. I'm assuming Veers knows though, and I'm more likely to be able to pull it from his thoughts than from Palpatine's." He considered a moment, then added, "And I need an agent - an independent infiltration specialist who could get into the Rebellion quickly and with reasonable anonymity - preferably someone who's already had previous contact. They don't need to last too long undiscovered. See if Karrde knows anyone... tell him they need to be expendable. And tell him I need three smuggler-modified, armed bulk freighters with... name a major transport company on Bothawuii?"

Reece paused, thrown sideways by the unexpected question, "Um... Tionn Kallat? Munil?" he recalled off the top of his head.

"They need spotless ID's as either of those company's transports. I'll give him dates when I next see him."

Reece raised his eyebrows, "May I ask what we'll be smuggling in them?"

"You, me and the 701st." Luke said cryptically, offering no more at this point. He sighed, weary of these endless games he was forced into, exhausted from the long day and frustrated by Veers' untimely arrival. "That's all for tonight Wez. Contact Admiral Joss in the morning. And wake me at seven, please - I may as well start getting back into some kind of routine. I'll go to the Practice Halls in the morning."

Reece raised his eyebrows, "And you will be practicing how, if I may ask, Sir?"

"Carefully." Luke replied dryly, turning away to indicate that the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.

Reece however, was not so easily put off, "I believe that Hallin recommended that you wait until the bars and pins were removed before commencing lightsaber practice?" He reminded politely.

"They'll be removed shortly." Luke said simply.

Reece remained still for long seconds, staring at The Heir's back, but he knew from long experience that further argument would be pointless, and he could understand The Heir's decision to push his scheduled recovery. He had disobeyed the Emperor many times, but this was one step further than he'd ever gone before and if Palpatine found out then there could be no reasonable rationalization to explain away the obviously premeditated act of insubordination.

The only thing which would buy him immunity from Palpatine's wrath would be success. That alone might just enable The Heir to hide his true intent within the results... and in doing so advance his own objectives.

And if he failed and Palpatine found out... Then he could afford no weaknesses, because Palpatine would take him to pieces.

.

.

.

Mara slowed with a frown on her face as she approached Skywalker's apartments, realisation slowly percolating through her still-waking thoughts that there were only two Red Guard at the doorway, which meant that Skywalker probably wasn't there.

She wandered down the main hallway in the vast apartment and found only Reece in Skywalker's Day-Office, glancing up as she reached the door. Though they were both under the Emperor's covert command, neither theoretically knew about the other's true duties but Mara was pretty sure that Reece was too smart not to know the truth, which made his wary enmity and mock-polite distance all the more confusing.

"Good morning Commander. Can I help you?"

"Where's Skywalker?" Mara asked, eliciting a very icy reply.

"The Heir is in the Practice Halls at present." Reece corrected cuttingly.

Mara ignored the barb, "Doing what?"

Reece raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"You're not seriously telling me you let him go there with a lightsaber in his condition?"

"I was hardly about to take it from him, Commander." Reece replied sarcastically.

"Does Hallin know?"

"Yes. His medic has stated that if The Heir is - his words, not mine - 'fool enough to try practicing with a lightsaber' then Hallin will be awaiting a comm to go to the Practice Halls and pick up the pieces shortly." Reece replied dryly.

Mara was already turning away, heading out of the apartment. She'd reached the wide basalt stairwell before she slowed slightly, considering... there was enough time to make a quick detour and pick up something from her own apartments...

.

The two Red Guard stepped smartly aside as she opened the double-doors to the vast Practice Hall, the heat of the glass-walled room rolling out over her although it was still early. Skywalker was more or less in the centre of the huge space, the pure white of the fitted tank-vest and pants which he always practiced in so bright in the morning sun that he seemed to glow against the absolute black of the polished ebony floor.

Squinting against the low morning light, Mara set forward, Skywalker half-turning in easy acknowledgement, lightsaber in his right hand, his left arm still held immobile by the polymer casts and the metal bars which glinted disturbingly in the morning sun.

He seemed strangely at ease and off-guard in that moment, as he often did during saber practice, as if everything else was put away for the time necessary to completely dedicate himself to this passion. Whenever he was in the Palace he fell back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall, as he had when he was first being taught by the Emperor. It was, Mara knew, both his method of remaining detached from Court and so sane in these cut-throat, paranoid surroundings, and a genuine compulsion bordering on obsession. But then that was forgivable - given the company he kept, chances were one day it would save his life.

He'd glanced up, his hair tousled, face breaking into a warm, unpretentious grin which Mara couldn't help but return. He looked so... relaxed. No wariness, no suspicion, no degrees of detachment. It was very...appealing.

"Practice?" she kicked herself for stating the glaringly obvious, but he didn't chide her for it, simply nodding.

"Trying." he admitted, swinging the saber casually in a one-handed infinity-loop to either side of his body with his good arm then ending it by twisting the blade up behind his arm as he lifted the arm out straight to his side, the tip of the live blade remaining parallel, stopping a fraction before it hit his arm and the back of his head, making Mara wince slightly though he seemed completely relaxed at the manoeuvre.

"You know, I distinctly remember speaking to Hallin and he said you shouldn't be practicing with a lightsaber yet."

"I thought you never listened to Hallin." Luke said easily.

"I didn't say that," Mara countered gamely, "I said I listened to him less than you."

"I'll give you that one." he allowed, smiling as he saluted with the blade, lifting it neatly before his face, head bowing slightly. He took two fast steps back, obviously clearing sufficient space to swing the lightsaber.

"You're very gracious." Mara deadpanned, though she couldn't help but allow a slight smile to twitch at the corners of her own lips as she stepped forward to maintain the space before them.

Undaunted, he took another two steps back - and Mara took another two steps forward. He glanced up, the deep scar on his face wrinkling as he furrowed his forehead, "Are we dancing now?"

Mara let the sarcasm slide, "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."

"I thought I gave you one." he countered lightly.

"I mean the question about Hallin saying you're not ready fort his kind of high-stress exercise yet."

"So do I."

Mara frowned, "And when did you do that?"

"When I backed up so I wouldn't hit you during my practice." he said levelly.

"See, that's not an answer, that's just ignoring the question."

He set his head to one side, tone indulgent, "If you're splitting hairs, I'd like to state for the record that you didn't really ask me a question- it was more of a statement."

He stepped back again, his smile pulling at the heavy scar on his face and reaching those sky-blue eyes - always a rarity, though Mara had seen it a surprising amount in the last week. She was still trying to decide whether she was pleased or suspicious. Either way, she was charmed by this appealing new twist to Skywalker's character. Hallin had warned of mood swings and temperament changes following the coma; if this was the result, she could certainly live with it.

He stepped back one last time, "And you're still in my way."

Mara frowned, not yet defeated; if she couldn't make him stop, then she could at least try to limit how much he did-

"We should duel." she said, holding out her hand, the simple, utilitarian lightsaber which Palpatine had given her many years ago in her grip, little more than a brushed steel tube with button controls- she often suspected that her master resented giving her, a non-Jedi, a lightsaber.

Petite and fine-boned, at this close distance her slim frame brought her not much higher than Luke's shoulder, though she wasn't daunted by the thought of a duel. She didn't have his strength, but she had a trained, athletic body, was nimble and agile, and had been taught from an early age how to duel. Admittedly he'd effortlessly trounced her in their one short spar, but she'd been practicing since then.

Her offer actually made him laugh out loud, his Rim-System accent suddenly coming to the fore as he dropped the lightsaber to his side and deactivated the bright ruby blade,. "Yeah, because you're so gracious in defeat."

"Maybe I'd beat you." she teased, taken by this unguarded attitude.

He left just enough of a pause to let her know how unlikely he thought that was, that perfectly-modulated Coruscanti accent completely restored. "No."

"I don't know," Mara ribbed easily, "You have a broken arm, your shoulders don't work and your hip and ankle were dislocated- I think I have a pretty fair chance this time."

"No, you don't."

Mara raised her eyebrows, "Am I that bad...or are you that good?"

He shrugged, ignoring the compliment but confident in his abilities, "A little bit of both."

"Maybe you should give me a few pointers... I'll try not to lose my rag this time."

"I think the first one is, don't lose your rag." he said dryly, "Come back when you can do that."

"I think there may be stones and glass houses involved in that comment somewhere." She countered easily.

"See?" he replied, though she could still hear the humour in his voice, "You've not even activated your saber yet."

Mara shrugged, accepting defeat, so was surprised when he offered, "Perhaps another time."

He backed away but she spoke out again, unwilling somehow to let the conversation end when he seemed in such an easy, charming mood, instead glancing down at the lightsaber in his hand, "May I see it?"

It was probably an unbelievable breach in etiquette, but she was genuinely curious. He'd worn and used the saber for three years now, and she'd never really seen it close up. He looked up, amused, his fingers tightening just slightly on the hilt of his sabre.

"May I see yours?" he held out his open hand pointedly, striking, mismatched eyes full of humour.

Smiling, Mara placed her lightsaber solidly in his left hand, rattling against the hard shell of the polymer brace which encapsulated it, though she didn't let go. At the same time, she took hold of the hilt of his saber.

He closed his hand and for a moment held onto both of them, as did she, each of them pulling just slightly.

"I see our whole relationship to date condensed into this moment," he observed, genuine humour in his voice.

No ploy, no suspicion, just honest, straightforward amusement . She couldn't remember when she had ever caught him in such a good mood. Such an... appealing mood. Maybe it was the high of returning to his precious saber practice; the feeling that he was actually doing something- on his way to recovery. Whatever.

Now, she could only smile, something which seemed to come very easily to both of them this morning, "Very funny. Let go."

He did so, as did she, and Mara found herself holding the hilt of his saber, studying it closely. A lightsaber was an intensely personal object, and even though the shell of this saber had been gifted to him, Skywalker would have doubtless created and engineered the blade within- the heart of the saber.

Long ago, a lightsaber was believed to represent the soul of the Jedi who used it - it was said that another Jedi could get a ghostly sense of its wielder simply by touching it. Though Mara didn't for a second believe the romanticised fairy-tale, she could well believe that another Force-sensitive could get some kind of reading from an object individually created and so intensely and personally used by another Jedi, part of their sense perhaps imbuing the saber from long use and familiarity.

It was much heavier than hers, slightly larger, the dense, ebony-black surface of the precious-metal perennium shell which Palpatine had gifted him painstakingly tooled with a fine crosshatch and embellished with graceful organic curves of platinum, the whole saber interspersed with finely tooled bands of platinum and gold. The upper half of the shell had at some point been cut back on a long curve to expose the eight disc-shaped cycling field generators beneath, each one banded in a thin platinum strip. That, she was sure, had not been part of the original shell Palpatine had given him, the exposure of its internal workings a reminder of its purpose, leaving the distinct impression that it had been intentionally defaced to reduce a near-priceless object to a more utilitarian status.

The blade shroud was a classic staged taper and flare design, the surround of the blade modulation circuitry and the taper itself dark copper, the shroud platinum, as was the heel. Despite its obvious value, the myriad of fine scratches and nicks from years of use took away any pretension it may otherwise have had, the etched finish worn mirror-smooth in places, the tactile nature of such heavy wear appealing.

A work of art, but understated and unassuming, belying its deadly nature. It felt... dangerous, its unfamiliar weight making it unstable, difficult to hold easily. A little unpredictable, a little unnerving.

Unrestrained power beneath a civilised shell.

"May I?" Without waiting for permission, Mara held the hilt away to the side and activated it.

It burst into life with an unexpected kick of power and she had to tense the muscles in her arm against its pull. She sensed rather than saw the slight change in Skywalker's stance, though he neither lifted nor activated her own lightsaber, which he still held.

Nor did he seem to feel the need to move away.

All blades had a slight pull, a 'cant', caused by the resonant vibration unique to that crystal, which gave the blade its weight- its 'heft'. Some were smooth and light, which made them easy to handle and fast through the air. But with no heft to the blade, all momentum must come from the wielder, making the more complex moves easy to achieve, but robbing them of any power.

'Heavy' blades had a low resonance and a more marked cant, requiring far more of the wielder in order to control them. They enforced a different fighting style, since constant movement was required in order to control the gyroscopic cant. But the trade-off against these difficult, heavy blades was that their momentum gave them power through the most complex moves, making them far more deadly- if one could land a precise blow.

All blades were in essence a trade-off between the ease and speed of a slight cant and the difficult to control, deadly power of a hefty blade. Her master's blade, like Mara's, was light and fast, enhancing speed and requiring less of the wielder in terms of commitment to training, applied expertise and dexterity. Vader's blade was very much like his son's, leading Mara to wonder momentarily at the spectacle which the duel that she knew had taken place between the two would have presented.

The pitch on this blade was very low, almost like a pulse, and she felt her own heartbeat quicken in empathetic response. The kinetic cant pulled against her, so marked that she had to fight just to hold it still, as if it were alive in her hand. Yet when she moved it in a slow figure-of-eight it almost took the movement from her, pulling her on it in its eagerness to move.

It was a unique, kinetic blade, tuned far more towards offensive than defensive moves- defence required speed of reaction; attack required power. This blade was designed to take the initiative, to press the attack home.

A Sith blade.

She hefted the intense ruby blade in sweeping movements, keeping the tip low. Though she stared at it, she was aware now that her complete attention was centred on Luke - and his on her.

Aware of his gaze she glanced up at him, those strangely mismatched eyes held steady on her. Now, looking up into his scarred face, Mara was intimately aware that somehow, this had moved to a different level. The atmosphere buzzed between them, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

She looked again to the blade which fought against her hold, fascinating in its contradictions, both resisting and desiring interaction.

"It's a curious blade. It feels... dangerous."

"All blades are dangerous."

She turned to look again into those steady blue eyes "This more than most."

"Then perhaps you should stop."

"I should. But I find I don't want to." She said this as casually as she could, again moving the blade in a figure-of-eight, watching it closely, the low thrum intense in the echoing emptiness of the cavernous room. "It draws me in."

He smiled just slightly, the scar at his eye twisting, though his quiet, wary voice held neither amusement nor warning as he spoke, his eyes on the slow-moving blade. "Think carefully - don't begin something believing you can control it... these moves have a habit of gaining their own momentum."

Mara knew exactly what he was saying, but in that moment she remained completely lost in those mismatched eyes. "Do you think I should stop?"

He hesitated, and that was all the answer she needed. They held each-other's gaze for far too long, neither willing to break the moment. Then, still keeping his eyes on her, he reached out to slip his hand over hers on the hilt, deactivating the saber.

"I think we should stop playing dangerous games." he said, quietly taking his saber back.

"I thought you liked playing dangerous games?" Mara murmured, eyes never leaving his, heart beating fast at her own audacity.

"Not here." he said simply, glancing pointedly at the surveillance lens in the ceiling as she released the hilt.

Was that a blanket dismissal or simply a deferral to a more secure venue? He was already walking away, effectively ending the conversation.

"You have another location in mind?" Mara baited to his back.

He laughed briefly without looking round as he reached the doors. When he spoke his voice was guarded, dry and amused in that calm, detached way he had, as if this had been a momentary distraction, nothing more. "Surprise me."

.

.

.

"What I want," Skywalker announced thoughtfully, arm rested on the table before him against the weight of the polymer braces and metal bars which held it together, "Is something on Mara Jade."

Reece shook his head decisively, "She's impeachable- you know that."

Luke glanced down, the long scar on his face wrinkling as he frowned in consideraton, "But is she? I don't think she'd ever go against a direct order, but I'm beginning to think maybe she'll skirt the edges of unspoken rules."

Reece took a breath, but Hallin asked before he could, "Wait- why do you want something on Mara Jade?"

Luke shook his head, the movement still stiff from too many injuries, his frustration at Jade clearly evident. "Because she's like my shadow at the moment. Everywhere I go she's right there behind me, too close for comfort. I want to know how much she's telling Palpatine- in what detail."

"Everything." Reece assured. "She speaks with him regularly and she submits a written report every two days- you know that."

"Is there any way to cross-reference her information with the information you supply? Get some feel for her reports?"

Again Reece shook his head, "No, I've tried that before, giving slightly inaccurate reports to see if I was picked up on it. I never have been." Despite his change in allegiance, Reece still carefully sustained his position as one of Palpatine's spies within Luke's household, passing on selected information, though now more in an effort to encourage specific responses than to give any real insight. Gaining his trust had been a major step forward for Luke, both in terms of his freedom within the Palace and his ability to pursue a greater plan, Reece's analytical mind and knowledge of the inner workings of the Palace and the Imperial military remained invaluable. "It doesn't help that I have no contact with Palpatine or any of his staff- my reports are made in isolation and sent by secure channel to Pestage- I have no feedback, none at all."

Luke fell silent, considering.

He, Reece and Hallin were in the drawing room of his private quarters, safe from the all-pervasive surveillance which was rife in the Palace. He didn't like meeting with them here like this, since although his Master's Internal Intelligence unit would have no idea what was said in the secure room, they would know that all three of them were there, which would perhaps be enough for them to consider pursuing it further. They'd gotten round this for the last few weeks by having Hallin visit early every evening on the pretext of carrying out a short medical check on his charge, Luke sometimes receiving his medic in his study or his library, both of which were bugged, but occasionally, if he had something to discuss, Luke made a point of being in his drawing room when he sensed Hallin nearing his apartments.

That Reece, as his primary Aide, was there was hopefully not something they would question, as he spent most of the day in Skywalker's company or at least very close by. Luke was playing on the fact that there had clearly always been a standing order by Palpatine that he was to be left alone as little as possible, always at least one of agent close by, and the fact that Reece was still considered to be a loyal agent, working for on Palpatine's behalf and sending covert reports to Pestage.

But at the end of the day if they cared to look carefully, someone may well begin to piece together the fact that the medic coincidentally seemed to visit his patient in one of the few rooms in the whole of the massive, sprawling Perlemian Apartments which weren't bugged at the same time as Mara Jade, Luke's other 'observer', always happened not to be present. So they wisely tried to keep these meetings short when they were in the Palace, aware that they were on borrowed time.

Now Luke considered, eyes in the middle distance, "I want to know where she draws the line - if she'll still pass on information that would get her personally into trouble; place her in an undesirable situation."

Reece raised his eyebrows in question, but Hallin spoke out again, "Why that?"

"Because she came into the Practice Hall this morning and..." he narrowed mismatched eyes in consideration, "I thought I could push her; make her back down but... she didn't."

He remained silent for long seconds, studying his memories of that morning then, as if realising his company, he shrugged, "Anyway, I have a feeling that I'm stuck here for some time and I need to start getting information in and out of the Palace or this chance will be wasted." Luke said of his opportunity to move against Mon Mothma. "Hallin, you said that Jade was reprimanded recently - that she told you she was now on parole. If she were to have to admit a failure in her duties - one which could be easily left unreported - would she do it?"

"How would you check?" Reece asked, logical as ever.

Luke considered; "That's where you come in. Let's try her with something small to begin with."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I need to start moving around without being tailed anyway, so let's see what she makes of that."

"Why take the risk?" Hallin asked, ever the voice of caution.

"Firstly, it's the principle of the thing; I'm sick of being followed around. Secondly I need to test Jade; something's changed and I want to know why. Most importantly I need to regain access to Argot, and to do that I need to be in a secure situation; I'm not risking the identity of my only spy in the Rebellion. I also need to get information in and out which I'd normally attend to onboard the Peerless, and I need to speak to Karrde again - I have an assignment for his group and it's gonna take them a while to unearth all the names I need."

Luke had long used the relative freedom afforded by the Peerless' distance from Coruscant to hide his actions, customarily using the standard equipment within any of the numerous Comm Rooms onboard. The comm system would be locked down of course, but it was ridiculously easy to sit down in front of a system which was used by the same few people every day, simply rest his hands on the keys and know the operator's password; what toggles were routinely pressed in which order to release an open channel on a frequency assigned to one of the few comm officers who used that room. By this method, he could send out and download a few short, encrypted long-distance messages hidden within existing background comms which were reliably untraceable since he never used the same station or the same officer's access codes twice running.

The encryption systems he used were created for him by one of Karrde's slicers. Talon Karrde headed up Luke's favoured smuggling group, which he often relied on for the kind of intelligence information from underground sources which official operatives couldn't access. His Master often used Black Sun for the same pupose - which was exactly why Luke could not. Xizor was an arrogant, egotistical braggart who sold his soul to the highest bidder, but he wasn't so stupid as to cross the Emperor. Karrde, whose outfit Luke had come across when they almost successfully managed to cross his picket line twelve months earlier to deliver some clients cargo, had turned out to have at least some sense of moral obligation, and that same warped code of smuggler's integrity which reminded Luke so much of Han Solo.

His organization was small and kept a very low profile, still relatively new to the big league, and were therefore pretty much overlooked by Imperial Intelligence, and at this point, they had nothing to lose and possibly everything to gain in backing what had been, when they first began their wary association, if not actually a rank outsider in the Imperial hierarchy then at best a total newcomer. As it turned out, they'd backed the right runner and now all they had to do was sit tight and wait, and they would soon be in the coveted position that Black Sun now enjoyed - and Karre knew it.

There was nothing concentrated loyalties like the realisation that one's client was next in line to the Imperial Throne.

None of which helped Luke if he couldn't actually get word out to them. Right now, trapped in the Palace, he was completely isolated, unable to give or receive orders from contacts and field agents he had spent the last two years placing.

"Why do you need Karrde?" Reece queried.

"I need the names and locations of any Bothans who supply information to the Rebellion. Any at all, past and present. And I want to know if he's got me my scapegoat yet."

"Why Bothans?" Hallin frowned.

"Because the Rebellion is Lord Vader's mandate- it always was. If I go after them openly then I'm countermanding a direct order from the Emperor, and I need him in an amenable mood when I make my play. The Bothans however are fair game, and everyone knows they would have been the ones who passed information to the Rebels about the Peerless' stop at Kuat Shipyards."

"Bothawuii is in the Rim Regions." Reece reminded, "If you take the Peerless outside the Core..."

"I won't. Covert units from the 701st will go after them - we'll rendezvous close to Devaron. I just need Mothma to know it's me who's doing this." At their bewildered, expectant faces, he finally relented a little and gave them the key; "It was Mon who personally brokered the deal with the Bothans to supply intelligence to the Rebellion."

"You want her to become personally involved?" Hallin asked, uncertain; it wasn't like Luke to expend this kind of energy in simply wounding someone who had wounded him.

"I know Mon and I know that if I harass the Bothans enough, she'll feel responsible. If I can predict where she'll be for just a few hours..."

"You're going after Mon Mothma?" Even Reece was taken aback, "I thought this was to get rid of Palpatine's Rebel spy and reinforce Argot" He paused, clearly searching for the right way to say this... "Is this perhaps dividing your attention a little?"

He knew that The Heir had no particular loyalties to the Rebellion; that had never been his intention in passing select information over for over a year now under the guise of a mid-level officer in the Core Fleet - if it had been, then Wez would never have defected and helped him - but to try to take Mothma down now, with neither backing nor permission from the Emperor, was incredibly risky.

"Palpatine wants a show of commitment from me and I need to remove Mon. She's now given me the perfect opportunity to do both and I won't pass it by." Luke said simply, his tone inviting no argument.

Both men fell to silence, considering The Heir's intentions, looking for flaws in logic or judgment. Luke waited, willing to consider any reasonable opinion.

"How will you know where Mothma will be?" Hallin asked at last.

"Argot will tell me, as well as trying to get Mothma as close to the Core Systems as possible - if I can re-establish contact."

"Why not use Admiral Joss as a go-between for you and Argot - just whilst you're stuck here in..." Hallin began.

"No- absolutely not." Luke cut in decisively, "I won't pass Argot's access codes to a third party- even one I trust implicitly."

"Surely it would be the easiest method right now."

"It would be too much of a risk- I'd have to give him too much. If Palpatine were to find out about Joss's loyalties then he could easily pull that information from him. Plus I need to maintain direct contact with the Al...Rebellion. I need to pass on that The Heir's going after the Bothans to back up the trustworthyness of their supposed mole in the Core Fleet."

It was, Hallin noted, Luke's first slip since the assassination attempt; previously he had always made the subtle differentiation of referring to the Rebels as the Alliance - a name only he used here in the Palace, probably because he had been among them for so long and this was how they referred to themselves - now, he had made a choice, conscious or not, to distance himself from the group.

"The longer I leave it before passing on information again under that identity, the more suspicious they'll be when I do so, particularly after an absence which just happens to coincide with The Heir's stay on Coruscant."

"They won't believe it's you, surely. They'd have no reason to make that connection." Hallin said.

"But they may well believe it's a member of my close entourage, which would put any consequent information under greater suspicion when we're trying so hard to create trust. They've always been encouraged to believe that their contact is aboard the Peerless."

"Which would seem to suggest that Hallin's right. Someone you have confidence in should continue to make contact with them from the Peerless in your absence."

"No. No-one uses those contacts but me."

Skywalker was as always, Reece knew, juggling several balls at once, keeping them all in the air. Reece and Hallin were his two greatest confidants, but Reece knew that even they saw only a fraction of the greater plan. Who exactly in the Rebellion Skywalker had access to, under what false identity and for what reasons were not facts he was willing to share - he simply couldn't afford to tell them more, Reece knew, for precisely the reason that he was unwilling to pass out codes to Joss.

Hallin however, was less convinced. "Admiral Joss could so easily pass information on from a safe location."

Luke shook his head infinitesimally, "First, we would be relying on Joss having a reliably secure channel which he could access regularly without it getting hacked by Internal Intelligence. Second, even if Internal Intel couldn't slice Karrde's encryption, simply catching Joss sending encrypted messages to the Rebels would be enough to condemn both Joss and consequently myself of treason. That would put me back in your medi-bay and Joss in front of a firing squad as well as revealing every active agent I have that Joss had codes to. And third, we now know that Argot's risking discovery from Palpatine's agent Leemarit- which I want to deal with myself."

Hallin frowned at that, unsure why exactly Luke felt the driving need to deal with Palpatine's agent himself. "Joss wouldn't give your name up."

"Maybe not under standard interrogation, but he's still my Admiral - Palpatine would become involved the moment it was reported and I guarantee you he would drag those codes and my involvement from him."

"If you're so worried about Palpatine, then how come Reece and I are safe?" Hallin argued mildly.

"Because Reece is a deep-cover agent so has no contact whatsoever with Palpatine, and I think he probably already knows about you but I would imagine he doesn't want to waste what will be a one-off opportunity to bring you in for information; he'll bide his time until it's worth his while."

"Well that's nice to know." Hallin deadpanned, mouth dry. It had never really occurred to him before that the Emperor may know of his loyalties and be simply waiting for a convenient moment to strike.

Luke smiled tightly, "Relax, Nathan, he has to give me some breaks, some illusion of independence, and you know he's a great advocate of 'better the devil you know'. If it makes you feel any better, it's also why I try to keep you out of the Imperial Palace and travelling with the fleet as much as possible."

"I've been here two months now." Hallin pointed out.

"Which is why I want you back aboard the Peerless. But it's a little difficult to rationalize sending my personal medic away when I'm still like this." Luke held up his pinned and immobilised arm, the frustration in his voice evident. "Which is why you're taking it off tomorrow."

"Two weeks." Hallin corrected.

"Tomorrow."

"I'll take the polymer forms off tomorrow." Hallin bargained, "The bars have to stay."

"All of them?"

"I'll look at the ones on your collarbones. And you'll stop doing lightsaber practice."

"Good." Luke said, and Hallin knew that he'd continue - he'd neither agreed nor argued the point, just passed it by. If he held true to form, he'd distract with a change of subject or disguise with a question.

"To get back to the point," Luke continued without giving Hallin a chance to reply, "I need to get a message out which means I need to influence a comm officer to get his code, which means I need to be far enough away from the Tower that Palpatine won't pick up on it. I can hide it to some degree, but I'd need to be in The Monolith to be sure."

The Monolith was the massive bulk of the Main Palace on which the four Habitation Towers rested, the central hub of the Empire where all information, reports and requests eventually ended up before being processed and delivered to the Emperor's Advice Council in the Cabinet of the South Tower for deliberation. All decisions controlling every aspect of life, military and civilian, passed through the the Cabinet before being returned to the Monolith below for implementation. Palpatine, ever paranoid of insurrection, kept this procedure close to hand, watching and listening, always searching for any betrayal.

"I'm uncomfortable with you sending illicit messages out so close to the Emperor." Reece fretted, always the bodyguard. But for him to voice this out loud, Luke knew he must be sincerely worried.

"Options are limited until I can get out of the Palace." Luke said firmly, not wanting this to devolve into an extended discussion, aware that time was short. "I can get down into the Monolith without being seen, you know that. But not with Mara Jade on my tail - and reporting it."

"Which is why you want her to be used to losing you for short periods of time." Hallin realised, of Luke's original assertion.

Luke nodded, "We just need to break her in gently. If it's happened several times and she always finds me quickly and somewhere reasonably innocuous, she won't bother to report it - or she won't want to admit it. I'll take either."

"Just another of your little personality quirks." Hallin said dryly.

"When tomorrow?" Reece asked.

"First thing." Luke replied. "First few will be very short - nothing unexpected except that I'm not in my quarters. She's smart enough to figure out where I am if I don't vary my routine. If she can find me within a few comms, with a little encouragement she won't bother to report it."

Reece nodded, understanding his role. "If I may, Commander, I think our time's up tonight." He glanced meaningfully at the door, and everyone knew he was right.

Luke stood, his companions automatically rising. They may be his co-conspirators, but protocol and etiquette were so deeply instilled here in the Palace that everyone still obeyed them even privately. The Commander was after all, Heir to the Empire, and despite his early misgivings at such protocol, it hqd slowly become routine that one did not sit in his presence unless invited to do so.

Hallin waited as Reece set forward to the door, Luke waiting until they were alone, knowing that the medic had something to say.

"I'd just like to clarify something, Commander," the slight medic said, "For my own edification."

Luke lifted his eyebrows in invitation.

"Yourself and Commander Jade..." He was trying so hard to be discreet, Luke knew. "I thought... I was under the impression that you and she were...."

"No." Luke said simply, saving Nathan the trouble of trying to continue.

"Ah. Then you should probably know that... the reason that Jade was so... upset by the termination of her position was..."

"I'm aware of why, Nathan. Thank you." Luke said, his dismissive tone indicating that the subject was closed.

Hallin remained still, eyes remaining on Luke.

"Are you telling me I should trust her?" Luke asked doubtfully, his voice indicating just how unwise he thought that was, "She remains what she's always been Nathan; Palpatine's prime agent and a thorn in my side."

"But her own feelings may..." Hallin fell to silence, suddenly realising the larger picture.

That was why Skywalker felt it was worth pushing Jade's reaction; he thought that she would back down and not report information because she knew it could jeopardise her position close to Skywalker. Not because he believed she'd fear a reprimand - that was nothing to Luke; withstanding the Emperor's volatile temper was such a way of life for him that he wouldn't consider it important to anyone else either.

No, he was gambling that Jade's interest in him would buy him some breathing room.

Yet their casual closeness in the medi-center had seemed so real to Hallin... had he been wrong - or was the man who had been so unremittingly taught by the Emperor that success necessitated a willingness to use any opportunity which came his way, now prepared to use his own feelings as ruthlessly as he was using Jade's?

"I wonder..." Nathan paused, searching for the right words...

"Come on then, out with it."

"I just wondered how you're sleeping at the moment?"

"Get to the point, Nathan."

Hallin glanced down tactfully, just a touch of nervousness in his voice, "I'm wondering if this is a good time for us to discuss the whole inadvisability of making major decisions following a traumatic head injury?"

"Meaning?"

"You remember our discussion about postconcussion syndrome - I said that you may find it necessary to manage certain... personality changes for a while. That you may find you are more irritable; short-tempered. That you may find it more difficult to come to an... unbiased decision. That your judgment may be impaired for a while."

Luke lifted his chin, mismatched eyes sharpening, as did his tone, "You think I've made the wrong decision?"

"I think, perhaps," Hallin began diplomatically, "You may find that.. you're taking a more aggressive stance."

Luke glanced away, voice losing none of its edge, "What I find is that I'm sick and tired of tip-toeing around Mara Jade. Let her do the hard work for a while, I'm done with it."

Again Hallin paused, "But its not really Mara Jade you're tiptoeing around, is it? It's Palpatine."

Luke didn't hesitate, "Perhaps I'm sick and tired of tip-toeing around Palpatine too."

Hallin remained silent, but Luke was in no mood to allow it. "Do you have some kind of problem with that?"

"No," Hallin said gently,

"Because it's nothing that I haven't said before."

"Absolutely. I just haven't heard you say it quite as... directly before."

"Which doesn't make it wrong."

"I'm just saying that perhaps you should hold off making any major decisions for a while. That you may be acting out of character and not know it. I just want you to understand that your sense of judgment may be slightly skewed at the moment; that you may take greater risks, that you may take action which wouldn't normally be in your character, though it may not seem that way to you."

"And in your professional opinion - as my physician - do you believe that's happened?"

Hallin hesitated, not wishing to place Luke in a position where he would constantly try to second-guess his every decision; when the slightest flaw was magnified and used by the Emperor's all-seeing eye, hesitation and self-doubt would kill. But under scrutiny from a Master who was famous for utilizing such subtleties, Luke's own abilities were honed to razor-sharpness and Hallin's hesitation had spoken volumes.

"You think I've lost my way."

"No." Hallin said immediately.

"Then you think I'm about to."

Again that telling hesitation.

Luke couldn't keep the edge from his voice, "Do you disagree with what I've said?"

"No."

"Is it contrary to anything I've said in the past?"

"Luke, please don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to catch you out- that isn't the reason I'm saying this. I just want you to understand that your injuries may be more than the obvious".

"The people whom I trusted with my life - the people whom I would have given my life to protect three years ago have just tried to kill me. Of course my injury is more than physical." Luke set his head to one side, a little of the anger softening now, "But you want to know that this is more than just revenge."

Hallin almost flinched; had Luke read his mind? He couldn't remember the last time Luke had done that without consent... but he held firm. "Tell me this is all part of some greater strategy. Not just to gain power or some level of independence - I need to know it's more than just that." he needed desperately to hear it.

Luke hesitated just for a second, tempted in a way he'd never been before - to push Hallin simply to see how far he could be pushed. "And if it wasn't?"

He caught himself immediately; now wasn't the time for idle games. "You know it's more than that. This - Mothma, Palpatine- it's a means to an end Hallin, it's not an end in itself. It never has been to me - I thought you knew that. But I thought, hoped , that when the time was right, when everything was in place, I would eventually be able to open negotiations with the Rebellion - with Mon Mothma. That's not going to happen; Mothma's now made it clear that she'll never be an ally and I won't leave an enemy that powerful at my back when I have an opportunity to remove her. I can't fight on two fronts and I can't afford to be trapped in the middle any more."

Squeamish morals had held him to inaction for too long and he knew it now. It had been an expensive lesson hard-learned, but as his Master was so fond of saying, they were the ones that were remembered. "We need to put ourselves beyond that kind of threat on both fronts. We need to move forward- I need to move forward, or this was all for nothing. It's not enough to learn; the lesson's not realized until you act upon it."

Hallin frowned, looking at his friend anew. Luke had always been someone who, so much like Hallin himself, had always endeavoured to sit on the sideline and not get involved; to do the minimum that was expected of him and try as much as possible to remain under the radar. Yes, he was headstrong and wilful and all the things that the Emperor had always accused him of, but essentially, Luke had tried his hardest to remain neutral and detached. To the point in fact, that Hallin had always wondered at the Emperor's zeal in controlling him.

Only once did Hallin think he'd seen a glimpse of what Luke was capable of, and that had been when he had so single-mindedly set out to get his friend, the Corellian, free from the Palace. And then, with a goal, all that unassailable will had been pinpoint-focused; relentless, resolute and indomitable- and shockingly effective. Was that the real Luke Skywalker? Was that why he had been considered so dangerous when he had been allied to the Rebels? Was the true Luke Skywalker that man- a man who, once he had a mission, an objective - a belief - pursued it relentlessly and unwaveringly to the exclusion of everything else, his own safety included?

Luke held Nathan's eyes without compunction, feeling not a trace of misgiving. Everything that he had done to this point had been in avoidance or defence. Now, with a terrible clarity, he could see just how pointless that had been. Was it true what Nathan had said- had his injuries changed him... or was it the Emperor, with his mind-games and manipulations? Or was it simply circumstance; his visceral realisation of just how vulnerable he really was.

Regardless, Luke had made the basic error of letting events overtake him, believing he could stand back, impartial and nonaligned, and it had made him an easy target. The only way to remedy that was to start moving again; to take control, to take events into his own hands and push forward- to be pro-active, not reactive.

And as heir to the Empire, there was only one position left for him to strive for; only one goal to secure.

Hallin still held Luke's eye, searching to understand whether his injuries had sharpened his edge, overwhelmed it, or simply returned it to his previous nature - was Hallin finally seeing Palpatine's wolf?

He stilled, realization like a blow to the gut;

"You're going after the throne aren't you?" Hallin uttered the unthinkable - and Luke didn't even blink.