In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 9

"Where is he this morning?" Mara leaned into the Staff Offices at the edge of Luke's apartments, an edge to her voice. Though the Royal Guards stood to stiff attention at the apartment's open doors and Clem, Luke's Palace-assigned bodyguard, was stood in the main cupola, Mara had made a slow loop of the apartments and he was nowhere to be seen. Why did he always do this on her shift?

Reece rose from a holo-screen, glancing sideways to her, "That's just what I'm trying to find out, Commander." he said flatly, glancing back down, "He was here a few minutes ago."

"I swear he does it on purpose." Mara walked easily into the room, not yet alarmed - it was the third morning that Luke had gone missing, but he generally turned up pretty quickly, and no-where unusual. She'd actually made the effort to get up a little earlier this morning, in an attempt to try to catch him out.

"Yes," Reece agreed absently, "I think he just gets a kick out of knowing that I have to fill in a report sheet every time he goes walkabout."

"Have you tried the Practice Halls?" she asked, though she knew that Reece would be doing so; it was where Luke generally turned up.

"Just patching in." Reece said, eyes still on the translucent display - and there he was, the view distorted by the small ceiling-height lens.

"Got him." Reece declared, "Will you go or shall I?"

"I'll go," Mara said, "It's my shift." She had in truth been a few minutes late to arrive despite her early rise, caught in the corridor by Hallin, in a talkative mood for once.

Reece stood as she headed for the door, keeping his voice casual, "I would... imagine The Heir may well make this a regular thing, now that his health is improving. As long as we find him quickly, I see no cause for alarm. I think we're perfectly capable of dealing with this in-house."

Mara glanced back, realising what he was saying... "Sure." she said at last, "I see no problem with that."

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"Well, well, well," Mara said lazily as she crossed the hall toward him, her own saber in hand, "You're a hard man to find."

He gave her an easy smile, "Clearly you were looking in the wrong places."

"No, I was looking in the right places, you just weren't there."

"That's 'cos I was here." he said as she drew level.

"Without your guards." She couldn't quite keep the chastising tone from her voice.

He swung his lightsaber nonchalantly, tip down, "Just keeping in practice."

Mara didn't fail to spot the double meaning in his words, but let it pass. "Yeah, well, keep in practice on..." she almost slipped and said Reece's shift, but caught herself in time, "Someone else's shift, please."

He shifted his grip on his lightsaber, holding it hilt upwards so the blade pointed down, and swung it in a lazy infinity loop to either side of his body, his tone light and genial. "What's wrong, Red- bit of a stretch at this time on a morning? Maybe you're slipping."

"Maybe you're just trying to get my back up." Mara retorted.

"Everything's always about you, isn't it Red?" he accused lightly, still swinging the blade, eyes on Mara.

"Hey, I'm not a morning person, okay?" She grumbled, made aware by his amused tone that she was overreacting. "And would you stop swinging that saber around when you're not watching the blade."

"If I have to watch the blade to know where it is then I'm abysmally inept, and I hate to disappoint you about my morning walk, but it's the principle of the thing." He said mildly, "I get tired of being followed around by my little red shadow."

The double meaning of that brought a wry smile to Luke's lips; he had been speaking of course of the scarlet-clad Royal Guard who accompanied him everywhere, but her blaze of long, gold-flecked auburn air had earned Mara a similar nick-name. If she saw the connection, she didn't voice it.

"They're there to protect you."

"Right." He said dryly- but then Mara hadn't really expected him to go for that. "You know I managed to get along just fine on my own for twenty-one years."

"You weren't Heir to the Imperial Throne then." Mara stepped just a little too close to Skywalker to in an effort to call his bluff and stop him spinning the blade, but he only took a half-step closer to her and adjusted the loop of the blade slightly so that it now included a slice to either side of her own body on the return loops around his. Mara raised her eyebrows, determined not to flinch before the whirling blade.

"I wasn't The Heir when they started following me everywhere either." He countered without animosity. "And are you trying to tell me that two guards would have been able to protect me when the bomb detonated?"

"I'm not trying to tell you anything." Mara replied, her tone beginning to sharpen again, uneasy at the low thrum of the swinging blade as it whipped past her head. "I really couldn't care less."

Skywalker stopped swinging the blade and glanced down at the lightsaber in her hand. Mara knew exactly what he was going to say; his previous caveat about her losing her temper too easily for him to be willing to teach her lightsaber stanza obviously foremost in his mind.

"This doesn't count." She claimed before he was able to speak, "We haven't started yet... technically."

"We're in the Practice Hall and you have a lightsaber- I'd say that counts."

"That's an interesting point." Mara allowed, not rising to the bait; 'No ill temper,' Skywalker had said- 'Come back when you can do that.'

Luke raised his eyebrows, a mix of scepticism and disbelief in his eyes, but Mara only imparted her most composed, serene smile. "See? No crabbiness. I'm the soul of discretion and calm. No more tantrums - whilst I'm holding a lightsaber."

He grinned, "None at all?"

"No."

"Whatsoever?"

"No."

"So is this a good time to ask you what was going on with your hair last week - with the weird braids and the..."

Mara lifted up her lightsaber hilt, "This works, you know..."

He smiled, tilting his head. "Tell you what, Red, I'll make a deal with you. I'll polish up your lightsaber skills and you teach me close combat."

She frowned, "What do you need close quarters combat for?"

"What do you need lightsaber skills for?"

And once again, everything boiled down to this, Mara knew; chances were, the only person each would need to use those skills against was the other- and Skywalker knew it. Like her, he was willing to trade a portion of his knowledge for a portion of hers- in more ways than one. He could have any instructor he chose come to the Palace to teach him close combat - had trained with the Red Guard instructors intermittently - but after three years, she knew how his mind worked, and knew that he probably figured that this also gained him the opportunity to familiarise himself with a possible opponent's strengths and weaknesses.

Or maybe, like her, there was something else as well... something too difficult to admit as yet. Things seemed to have turned about since his injury, everything shaken up - for the better, it seemed. There was something palpably different about him; some sense of commitment, of direction.

She grinned impishly, "I see our whole relationship to date condensed down into this moment." she uttered knowingly, repeating the words he'd spoken to her just a few days earlier.

He smiled disarmingly then stepped to the side, settling into a ready-position. "Well it's nice to have a little consistency in one's life." he murmured, eyes front, "Ready?"

Still smiling, Mara adjusted her own feet accordingly, bringing her hilt to the ready position, wondering how this easy-going, affable charmer could also be the mercurial, volatile Sith whom Palpatine deemed it necessary to invest so much in controlling.

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CHAPTER TEN

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Turned away from the door and apparently gazing out into space from his private ready-room to the rear of the Peerless' bridge, Luke watched General Veers enter in the reflection of the transparisteel viewport, eyes narrowing.

He had been given permission by Palpatine to return to the fleet only hours earlier and had done so immediately, his haste throwing his staff into pandemonium as they rushed to comply - why exactly he didn't know as he'd made it clear for weeks that the moment he was released from the Emperor's entourage, he would leave.

It was time to put his own house in order.

The Peerless was already on a course out of Coruscant's high orbit, the Dauntless, the Fury and the Dominant in close formation for the short hyperspace jump to Corulag where Karrde would be secretly waiting, before Luke had finally summoned his new General - or rather, Palpatine's.

Normally Luke would tolerate someone of Veers' seniority as a member of his staff even though he knew that the General was reporting directly to the Emperor, amusing himself by simply feeding or denying his Master's new mole information as he saw fit. It was a fact of life here, and he'd had every intention of doing the same with Veers.

Then he had seen the General on his bridge and the black knot that pulled tight in his gut had pushed all other considerations aside.

Veers had informed on his father, probably for years, and while once that would have instilled nothing more than detached amusement, now it seemed... intolerable. The General had remained outside of Luke's reach as long as he had stayed with the Rim Fleet, but now he had transferred to the Core fleet - to Luke's own flagship - and no doubt had the insolence to presume that he could do the same here with impunity.

Just a few words, Luke assured himself; nothing too contentious. Just to let the arrogant, self-satisfied General know that Luke was watching him. He shouldn't of course; should just play him instead- string him along for months with spoon-fed information and carefully-manipulated facts. Should use him before he disposed of him. He knew that.

Veers turned to Luke now, saluting smartly with a click of his heels. Luke remained motionless, neither turning nor acknowledging the gesture.

"Commander." Veers said confidently, "Thank-you for accepting my request for transfer. I understand that you had a good working relationship with General Reiss and I hope to maintain that tradition. I look forward to a long and favourable co-operation between..."

Luke turned just slightly, voice ice and steel, "Co-operation? There is no co-operation between us, General. You are my subordinate and you always will be - unless you intend to rule the Empire one day?"

"No Sir," the General faltered just slightly, "Forgive me, I simply meant..."

"Why did you leave the Executor ?"

"Sir?" Veers was floundering now, uncertain.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question. Why did you leave the Executor?"

"I felt... that... your style of dynamic leadership was more in keeping with my..."

"Stop there, Veers." Luke turned at last, locking hard eyes on the General, "I think the best that we can possibly hope to achieve from your assignment to the Peerless would be that we understand each-other, you and I. So let me explain my views, before you talk yourself any further into an undefendable position."

Veers was held to an uneasy silence, the tone of Luke's voice demanding no less. "You see, I know what you are, Veers. I know why you're here and I know what you think it will gain you. You invested a great deal of time and effort in paying Lord Vader lipservice while you informed the Emperor of his every move. For whatever reason, he chose to ignore that- I however, am not Vader. I do not tolerate such actions from those close to me."

Veers had paled to ashen white, eyes wide at the direct accusation, "My Lord, I wouldn't dream of..."

Luke set his head on one side, incensed, "DON'T..... don't lie to me, Veers."

The General fell to silence before the outburst and Luke held his eye for long seconds, shoulders tense, jaw tight, voice filled with quiet malice now, so clearly at the edge of exploding.

"If I once catch you delivering information to Palpatine about myself or my crew... I will turn your smug face inside out, Veers. And if you think that your affiliation with the Emperor will buy you any immunity from my wrath, then you are sadly mistaken. If I invested the greater part of every day for the rest of this voyage making sure that your last days were a living hell before I finally ripped you apart, then I can guarantee that the most I would get from the Emperor would be a rap on the knuckles for dividing my attention whilst on duty."

Luke set slowly forward as he spoke, voice low with undisguised menace, uncanny, mismatched eyes narrowed in threat. "You come in here and you have the gall to think that you can stand before a Sith and tell bare-faced lies. You assume that because Lord Vader allowed you that indulgence then I will do the same... You are gravely mistaken, General. I will be watching you very closely. Members of my staff will be watching you very closely. Members of your own staff - those you think you can trust - will be watching you very closely. All day, every day. I am just waiting for you to stumble, Veers, privately or professionally, because the moment that you do... you're mine. Do we have an understanding now, General?"

Veers remained locked in shocked silence for long seconds, intimidation and uncertainty freezing him to the spot as the black-clad man came to a slow halt before him, tense expression completely composed though his eyes were seething and his low voice clipped with barely restrained fury.

"If I were you, Veers, I would say 'Yes Sir' and I would salute smartly, then I would turn around and walk very quickly from this room... and think myself very lucky to have gotten out before that volatile Sithspawn of a Commander lost any last semblance of control. And I would make it my mission for the remainder of this journey to stay the hell out of his way because he is clearly on a very, very short fuse."

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Mara watched General Veers walk shakily from The Commander's ready-room to the aft turbolifts and enter without a sideways glance. Frowning, she made her way to the ready-room and knocked lightly before entering, Skywalker looking up from his desk, that easy, open expression making him seem far younger than his years.

"What did you say to the General?" She asked as she wandered over, "He looked pretty rattled as he left."

Luke shrugged, resting his hand on his chin, fingers steepled before his scarred lips, "Really? Just clarifying our working relationship. Nothing I haven't said to a hundred others like him."

Mara scowled as Skywalker turned back to reading his automemo, though she kept her voice casual, "You don't like him, do you?"

Luke didn't look up, attention seemingly on his work though Mara knew it was nothing of the sort. He had that brittle edginess to him right now, that volatile, quicksilver sense of someone teetering at the brink, like the calm eye in the centre of the storm. it was as compelling, as charismatic as ever to Mara.

"I liked my old General." Skywalker said easily without looking up. "We worked well together. We knew how each-other thought."

"You know how everybody thinks." Mara countered.

Luke shrugged, glancing up. "Yes, but people who understand how I think are few and far between."

"Tell me about it." Mara said dryly, "Maybe you'll get General Reiss back one day."

Skywalker smiled that easy, charming smile, "Yes- I'm sure I will."

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

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"Mon, you need to get up here." It was Leia, voice full of apprehension, making Mon grimace in the privacy of her office.

"On my way." She didn't bother asking what had happened - after the last few weeks, she had a pretty good idea, and the details would become apparent soon enough, no doubt.

Mon entered Ops to see Leia, Ackbar and Massa staring at status screens, the readouts still too far away for Mon to decipher. "Report?"

"They have Toll'daa." Massa said without preamble, "His whole unit."

Mon blanched, stepping forward, "Is this confirmed?"

Toll'daa was the leader of yet another of the deep-cover Bothan spy cells which routinely supplied the Rebellion with information. The arrest of his troop would make a total of five Rebel-biased cells which the Empire had now closed down in the last month. Or rather, the 701st - The Wolf's own private little army.

Ever since he'd been let loose from Coruscant he'd been hounding the Bothhans, covert, plain-clothes units of his 701st turning up everywhere, quietly taking down the deep-cover Bothan spy cells then disappearing back to the Core Systems with their prisoners in tow. Very neat and very professional, as they always were. And it wasn't just complete cells - they were taking the trouble to hunt down individuals, those who worked in isolation, any Bothan who had any connection with the spy rings which served the Alliance.

It was a personal little vendetta being methodically executed against those who had been involved, no matter how insignificantly, in the assassination attempt. Leia's anonymous contact from onboard the Peerless had smuggled out several messages of warning, though he had no specific details. Why exactly it was being visited specifically on the Bothans she didn't know- so far, despite Vader's anticipated clampdown, the Alliance itself had escaped relatively unscathed, but that couldn't be expected to continue.

"They missed a scheduled contact, and then Toll'daa's name just came up in a routine report from the SSD Peerless back to Intel on Coruscant- encrypted of course. Ten others are listed, so they're one short - either someone escaped or they were killed in the raid."

Mon sighed, fighting back her rising panic, "Where are they getting their information from? Someone's supplying this- they didn't already know about all those groups. They couldn't have."

Obviously The Heir had his own informants outside official Imperial Intelligence, but to date they had no idea who they were.

"I would surmise that they've known for several weeks and been taking their time to get in place and watch for any bolt-holes or safe exit routes whilst they were waiting for The Heir to be released from Coruscant." the Intel Chief said, voice calm and unaffected as ever. "This is a planned campaign - it hasn't just happened. The attacks are too close together. The Heir must have been gathering information and assigning tactical groups to their targets whilst he was still in the Palace on Coruscant."

"Then why not take them all down in a single strike?" Leia murmured.

"That I don't know." Tag admitted, eyes still to the information scrolling down the screen. "There must be a tactical advantage, otherwise The Wolf wouldn't do it. I doubt its coincidence and I don't think he's getting information from one group which condemns the next, though that may be what he wants us to believe - that they're breaking under interrogation. Its more likely to be a psychological ploy to panic the Bothans into severing ties to the Alliance. He of all people would know how much we rely on the Bothans- he may be trying to isolate us."

It still unsettled Leia when Tag occasionally referred to Skywalker- he'd always be that to her- by that disquieting epithet, more commonly used in Imperial circles, but then the groups Tag moved in and the reports she read from Imperial spies often referred to him as such. Why exactly it bothered her so much Leia had no idea; she'd long since let him go and had no reason to change her mind. She narrowed her eyes, considering; if the Bothans withdrew support it would be a major setback.

"Why now, after all these years?" Ackbar murmured.

Massa didn't even hesitate, "As I said before, if you plan an assassination attempt on The Wolf, then make sure it's successful because Force help us if it isn't. I never met the man personally, but all of the psyche profiles indicate he's someone with his own set of morals no matter how skewed, and he adheres to them quite stringently. I think as far as he was concerned, this has long been a case of 'You don't bother me and I won't bother you'. He now believes we crossed the line- we made the declaration of war and now it's open season. He'll no doubt believe we only have ourselves to blame."

"So if we retaliate for the Bothans, the situation will escalate?" Leia asked.

"I would say yes," Massa replied, "Which doesn't mean I advocate just sitting here and taking it."

"But if we do anything, he'll go after the Bothans, not us." Leia said; very neat, very specific - if they reacted at all, then they made the Bothan's plight worse. If they didn't... probably he would continue to provoke until they had to. Either way, the Bothans were paying for their choices- who could blame them if they chose to distance themselves from the Alliance in an attempt to diffuse the situation?

"Your recommendation?" Mon asked.

Massa paused, considering. "If you choose to retaliate, then I would suggest keeping any campaign well outside his reach - outside of the Core and Colony Systems. I believe that's why we're still here; we're outside his jurisdiction so he has no way to get to us. But I would advise you to bear in mind his continued persecution of the Bothans. He's working hard to put a wedge between them and ourselves- to make them feel that they're paying the price for our actions. Any retaliation that we effect now may be at their expense and serve to further alienate them, which would be playing into The Wolf's hands."

Leia turned to Mon at this, "Do you think it could work?"

Mon more than any other, knew the Bothan's mind. It was she who'd first made contact with them over a decade ago and she who'd brokered the deal which both parties had held to since then. She remained their main contact and had worked hard to keep the deal in place. The Alliance relied perhaps a little too heavily on the Bothan's extensive spy network to supply information on a scale which they simply couldn't match. The thought of possibly losing that connection was enough to make everybody nervous.

"No it won't work, because I won't let it." Mon announced, fire and permasteel in her voice.

She turned to Ackbar, "Admiral, please make preparations for a small team to go to Bothawuii. I'll contact Olin'yaa and provide you with a time and location as soon as I'm able."

"Of course, Chief." Ackbar acknowledged, his deep, gravelly voice indicating concurrence with the decision. "Who will head up the team?"

"I will." Mon said simply.

"What?" Leia blurted out, before reining in her reaction, "I wonder whether that's wise, Mon."

"Bothawuii is outside of The Heir's reach, and a small contingent would easily be able to slip in and out of the system without being noticed." Mothma countered.

"Still... perhaps I could go..." Leia murmured, unsure.

"No, it should be me who attends in person," Mon insisted, "I've always maintained close ties with the Bothans and with Olin'yaa in person. For me to send someone else now would be politically unsound. We're seeking to reassure them."

"Olin'yaa would take this as a statement of supportive collaboration." Massa confirmed of the leader who represented the Bothan's interests in this. "And Bothawuii is in the Mid Rim - well outside of the Core Fleets' jurisdiction. However, perhaps we could suggest a more neutral ground than the planet itself; in view of The Wolf's actions, I'd imagine it will probably be under observation by Lord Vader's fleet. I'd be more comfortable if we could name the location ourselves, Chief Mothma - and as late as possible. I'm sure Olin'yaa would accept this as reasonable security measures."

"Within the system though, Tag. I don't want it to look like we're afraid to be near them when they're under fire because of our actions."

"How exactly are you going to reassure them?" Leia couldn't help but ask.

Mon turned, voice quiet, "I don't know, Leia- I really don't know."

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"Sit." Luke invited without turning, and the tall dark-haired man set forward casually, collapsing into the memoryform chair in the private quarters of the man who was Imperial Heir and Commander of the Core Fleet. It was, Talon Karrde knew, a uniquely privileged position that he was in, though he'd yet to work out why exactly. He watched as the Commander poured two glasses of brandy, neither man feeling any need to fill the silence, both confident in their own position and respectful of each others.

Karrde sipped at the dark spirit, looking appreciatively at it as he swirled the heavy glass. It was a good vintage of course - very good in fact - but there were better out there, which prompted another question; why?

"Corellian?" he murmured, glancing up, "I never understand why you don't stock Ruusan."

"I like Corellian brandy." The Commander said conversationally as he settled into the chair opposite, glancing down at his own glass. "An... acquaintance introduced me to it. It was the only spirit he drank and he'd let you drink nothing else when you were with him."

"Then he must have been Corellian- they're always quick to sound their own praise." It was a test really - an attempt to dig a little deeper.

The Commander glanced up, a knowing half-smile on his face, and the smuggler chief knew that even this most casual of interests, spoken with no other motive than to answer his own private curiosity, was unpermissible.

"Do you have my bulk freighters?" The Commander said simply, and Karrde smiled just slightly beneath his dark handlebar moustache. He genuinely liked the Commander, much as he'd tried to convince himself otherwise. If he didn't, he would have extricated himself from this little 'business arrangement' long before now, profitable as it was. But despite all hearsay to the contrary, the young man who faced him now was no arrogant tyrant and no callous murderer. He had an edge to him yes, the smuggler didn't argue that, but Karrde had met more than his fair share of hardened killers and pitiless assassins in the circles he moved through and he prided himself on his ability to read a person quickly and accurately - it had kept him alive in a profession where longevity was the exception rather than the norm.

"Yes, three, all with credible ID's." Karrde said easily, "Do you have my dates?"

"Not yet. Bill me from one month from today."

"For how long?"

"Until I say otherwise." The Commander replied casually, refusing to be led.

Karrde had intended to push further, but The Commander moved the conversation on too quickly, "They need to be well-armed and shielded, and be able to give false readings to DER and lifeform sensors."

"What are they hiding, and from what?" Karrde asked, a more reasonable question than it sounded; hiding inactivate technology from passive sensor scans was a hell of a lot easier than hiding charged ion cannons or starfighters on warm-up, and hiding anything from a small fighters' broad-range sensors was a breeze compared to the full-spectrum data and analysis systems on a Frigate or a Destroyer. Still, The Commander wasn't in the habit of giving too much away, especially to Karrde, a self-professed information-dealer.

"They're hiding lifeforms, small-scale technology and TIE's, which will be on active pre-flight. As far as the mark, it could be anything from another freighter to a small Corvette or Cruiser, but I'd guess the scans will be passive; they won't want to be detected just as much as me."

'As far as the mark...'- The mark was a smugglers' term, referring to the party to be fooled. For smugglers, the mark was generally Imperial Customs and Excise - hardly the term an Imperial Commander would generally use then - or those he would need to hide from. "Where will it be?" Karrde asked casually; it was worth a try.

"I'll send someone to pick them up at Obroa-Skai. I'll supply my own crews, so you'll need to send a transport to get your people off."

Not terribly informative; Obroa-Skai was a huge port-cum-shipyard with hundreds of transports arriving and departing every day. The Commander obviously intended for his freighters to simply get lost in the crush. "I generally like to leave a few of my own people onboard, just as insurance." Karrde mentioned, "Bulk-freighters are extremely expensive items- especially retro-fitted with that much technology."

The Commander only smiled, "Not a chance." He refused point-blank, but there was humour in is tone, as if he'd expected no less from Karrde "If I don't bring them back you know where to come and find me."

"Then I'll have to double the deposit."

"Whatever. Triple it if it helps you sleep at night."

It was, Karrde had learned, very difficult to argue with someone for whom credit was no object; one had very little leverage. Again, The Commander pushed on before the smuggler could query further.

"I'll need contact frequencies and ship blueprints two weeks from now. Send them through the usual channels, with your fees. I'll transfer the credit within three days." He paused, considering; "Do you have any Bothans or Chadra-Fan in your workforce at the moment?"

Karrde raised his eyebrows, "Probably- why?"

"How many?"

The, heavy-set smuggler shifted just slightly, not in the least offended when his question was ignored; he would have done the same. "Perhaps a dozen or so Bothans; half that of Chadra-Fan. I'm not certain." Perhaps the difference between the two amounts would draw out which he was really interested in, since clearly it would only be one group; the other would be a misdirection.

"Can they crew your ships?"

"I suppose so- not alone, obviously."

"Use them - tell them they're to stay with the freighters and follow my command." Before Karrde could speak, the Commander added, "Bill me. You can take it off the double-deposit since you'll have crew-members onboard."

He grinned, looking very young in that moment, "Look at it this way Karrde; not only will you get to keep an eye on your precious freighters, you'll have an eyewitness account of what went on." Again, he smiled; "Obviously, we'll be disabling any trackers or transmitters you place in the freighters' systems."

"As if I would." Karrde smiled. That was the thing about the Commander; he expected professional subterfuge- he didn't take it personally.

"Did you find my infiltration specialist?"

For a second, even Karrde was thrown by the sudden change in subject, but then it was par for the course from the Commander, who wasn't one for small-talk. " 'Assassin' was the word in the comm I received." Karrde corrected, and the Commander made the slightest of gestures in acknowledgement.

"I presume you have a score to settle." Karrde said, glancing only momentarily to the deep scar which ran from beside the Commander's eye down over his cheek and through his lips. He'd tried hard not to stare when he'd entered the room, the first time he'd seen the Commander since the hushed-up assassination attempt. But the severity of the scar was hard to ignore, as was the dark slice which discoloured his right iris, mismatching his normally pale eyes, and to do so felt more forced than to actually look, when he knew that one of the things which had cemented their... association was his own innate, upfront honesty - again, something of the exception in his line of work.

The Commander glanced down, unwilling to be drawn. Chances were that by now he knew who was responsible, Karrde knew, though unlike Vader, he wouldn't simply strike out in a rage. His response would be more measured; more calculating... like the Emperor he was so clearly being groomed to succeed.

"You know I don't work like that." The Commander corrected easily, unoffended.

"I have two mercenaries," Karrde said, "Both of whom have infiltrated the Alliance before."

"Neither of whom have any traceable connections to you?"

"None."

"And they wouldn't be recognised?"

"Not as long as they weren't required to interact with the same beings- they weren't caught last time. May I ask what the job is - aside from an assassination - and where?"

"It's onboard the Rebel Flagship, Home-One. I need to remove the Comm Chief, named Leemarit."

"May I ask why?"

While he genuinely liked Karrde, maybe even trusted him to a certain degree, Luke knew that both had their limits. His Master had illustrated time and again that knowledge was power, and no matter how much he trusted the mercenary, if Palpatine or Vader were to get hold of him then Luke didn't want to find himself on the receiving end of another lesson.

So he considered for a moment, then offered something which would corroborate the story he eventually intended to tell the Emperor, "He crossed me- I don't take well to that."

"So I've heard." Karrde said mildly, taking another sip of the bitter-sweet brandy, studying the Commander's scarred features. Was he telling the truth? He'd told Karrde just minutes ago that he didn't indulge in empty vendettas, so was this something more- or had he been lying first time and this was the truth? It was always difficult to tell. Karrde got the distinct feling that sometimes he lied for good reasons and sometimes just on principle, like a sabacc player keeping his opponents guessing, but he'd also noticed that ccasionally the Commander told the truth as a kind of double-bluff - or made a double-bluff of the truth.

He made a mental note never to play the Commander at sabacc- then dismissed it as hardly the kind of game that a future Emperor would lower himself to.

But then, infiltration and spying hardly seemed fitting pastimes for a future Emperor either - not in person - and though nobody had any proof, Karrde had it on good authority that the Commander had done both. Within the Alliance, no less... which dovetailed quite conveniently with his present target... "Did he cross you in person?" he asked casually, eyes on his glass.

"What?" The Commander frowned.

"I just wondered how the Commander of the Core Fleet would know a Rebel Comm Chief."

"You'd be surprised who I know, Karrde." Luke dismissed, knowing it was what the smuggler chief wanted to hear, pushing the conversation on before Karrde could delve any further, "Which would you recommend now you know the job?"

The younger man also wasn't above taking advice if he thought it would serve him, Karrde had noted that too; something very rare indeed in a man of his rank. "Probably the Malastarian, named Issig, but he's not cheap."

"Immaterial." The Commander dismissed out of hand, reminding Karrde whom he was dealing with, "What do you know about him?"

Karrde shrugged, curious at the question- it wasn't something the Commander would generally bother to ask. "He's reliable. He'll get the job done."

"Do you trust him?" Another strange question coming from the Commander, who trusted practically nobody, and certainly wouldn't trust based on someone else's perceptions.

"Trust?" Karrde pushed.

"Like, I suppose."

Now that really was odd. "Not particularly- Why?"

"Because if he takes the job, it'll kill him."

Karrde missed a single beat, then; "Yes- the message mentioned that. Perhaps he's better than you think."

The Commander tilted his head, voice emotionless, "I sincerely hope not. I'll be handing him over to them and I'd rather he didn't make a last-minute escape. I don't particularly want them to catch him alive either, but just in case, I need him to be primed with certain information."

Interesting- though it did explain to Karrde one thing; "Which is why you're using a go-between."

The Commander paused just slightly before allowing Karrde some glimpse at the greater plan, "The ideal would be to use an Imperial agent, but in this instance I can't. I need to remain unconnected to the death for a few weeks - after that it doesn't matter. If you have a problem with providing someone on these terms..."

"No." Karrde considered a moment, knowing that the offer of a get-out was genuine and he wouldn't be judged for choosing to take it. It wasn't generally the kind of thing he got mixed up in, handing out jobs with a foregone conclusion, but in his line of work one always knew a few beings who had played both sides to the center once too often and deserved this special kind of skewed justice; "But I'd like to use someone else, if I may?"

"If he's capable- I still need a clean kill before I hand him over- timing is important."

"Yes, I think so, particularly if the target is unaware. I'm sure in fact."

A short silence ensued, but the Commander just couldn't help himself, setting his head slightly to one side, a dry smile tilting the edges of his scarred lips, "What - does he owe you currency?"

Karrde smiled sardonically, "Perhaps I owe him."

.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

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The Peerless came out of hyperspace just clear of Coruscant's gravity, manoeuvring her massive bulk into a military shipping lane with graceful precision, the Dauntless, the Fury and the Dominant following close behind.

On the bridge, Mara stood close to the Commander, who remained statue-still before the span of the main viewport, the glistening jewel of Coruscant's night-side as The Peerless took up geostationary orbit changing his expression not a whit.

He had, she knew, greater things on his mind.

He had been summoned to Coruscant by the Emperor's personal command - not that anyone else could order him anyway, but it was rare that the wording of a summons to Skywalker included the statement, "By the Emperor's Command-"

Luke had been released from Coruscant by the Emperor only eight weeks earlier, and had immediately ordered so convoluted-a course for the Peerless that it was instantly clear that he'd had his destinations planned for some time.

He had, of course, sought prior permission from his Master to use any means in his power to find those who had aided and abetted his attempted assassination, but Mara knew that Palpatine hadn't anticipated this response. Luke had begun hounding the Bothans almost as soon as he'd left orbit, the first raid by the 701st having already taken place by the time the Peerless exited from her first hyperspace jump at Corulag. This was a carefully orchestrated, premeditated plan and it seemed to be gaining momentum. In fact, Mara couldn't quite shake the hunch that she was looking at the tip of the iceberg...

She got the distinct impression that Skywalker was deriving a certain satisfaction from putting a light under the Alliance then standing back to watch the ensuing fireworks.

And Palpatine had encouraged it of course, referring to it as putting his Wolf among the herd.

Still, even he had started to grow a little edgy at this very specific, unrelenting operation, curious to know what exactly was going on in his feral Jedi's head. Because Skywalker certainly wasn't admitting anything out loud - which usually equated to his skirting the very edge of what he knew would be acceptable to his Master...

So Mara could well understand the Commander's edginess today. He had been recalled without further explanation to Coruscant and it was pretty clear that he was expected to provide some kind of justification of his actions when he arrived. Palpatine always maintained a deliberate lack of continuity or predictability in his dealings with Skywalker, sustaining the wary trepidation he held for his Master. But as much as Palpatine had learned the most effective way to keep his wayward Jedi off-balance in the last three years, Skywalker had also learned the best method of dealing with his Master, Mara noted. He spent his life now steering the fine course between what could easily be considered excessive, unwarranted disobedience and what his Master may categorise as the kind of blatant, fascinatingly wilful insubordination which occasionally but not always, bought immunity from Palpatine's wrath- sometimes under the most outrageous circumstances.

It had become more and more a game of wits and will between them, and Skywalker's sudden burst of motivation following his assassination attempt had upped the ante once again, Mara knew. Of course, any genuine dissent or defiance would be met with the most severe, implacable force, requiring days or even weeks to recover, but eventually Skywalker had learned the rules of the game and remained forever just within the bounds of acceptable behaviour. The plain truth however, was that this alone wouldn't protect him from his Master's wrath if Palpatine believed Luke was challenging him, and even Mara, who had known the Emperor far longer than Luke, had no idea how he was going to take this, which made whatever the hell Skywalker was implementing right now that much more of a gamble and he knew it.

A Lieutenant walked quickly up to Skywalker and saluted smartly, catching Mara's eye simply because he was around the same age as Luke- very few people who had risen to serve onboard the Peerless were so young. "Sir- Chancellor Amedda sends official greetings and requests a projected arrival time."

Luke turned just slightly, "Acknowledge and send a reply. Fastest course by Shuttle."

The Lieutenant was snapping his heels in response when a second message was forwarded to his autoreader.

"Sir, The Emperor commands you to an immediate private audience." he said, looking up, no concept of what this really meant. It was, to most of the people on the Bridge, an accolade rather than a threat. Mara glanced at Skywalker, whose expression remained neutral.

The silence hung expectant, the young Lieutenant unsure what to do, waiting for some reply. When the Commander turned to exit the bridge, the Lieutenant spoke out, "Sir- may I send a response?"

"No." The Commander replied simply without turning.

Mara looked with trepidation from the closed turbolift doors to the Lieutenant, aware that Luke would be expected to reply to any message from the Emperor immediately, any delay a message in itself. she let out her breath in a slow sigh, which did nothing to ease her nerves. The game was on.

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"You are of course, kiddin' me?" Han prompted, stopping dead in the corridor, so that Leia was three or four steps forward before she realised and turned about and Chewie, who had been behind Han, ploughed into him with a startled grunt.

Leia glanced back at the Wookie and the two shared a long-suffering glance before she looked back to Han, "Why would I be kidding you?"

"Because.... seriously - you need me to tell you?!" Han exclaimed, "I'm just.. I'm... speechless."

Leia set one hand on the curve of her hip, "That'll be the day, Solo."

Chewie gave a short guffaw at that, then turned to look innocently up at the ceiling as Han glanced back.

"Hey, since I'm the only one around here who ever talks any sense. Not surprisingly, I feel it my duty to keep talkin'." Han maintained, a picture of indignant, injured pride.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I told you weeks ago that Mon had decided to meet up with Olin'yaa and... what did you say?" Leia set her head to one side in mock consideration, but when Han wouldn't be drawn, she feigned remembering, "Oh that's right you said - and I quote - 'Well it's about time'."

Seeing Chewie nodding from the corner of his eye, Han turned on his friend, tone wounded, "Would you stop backing her up?!"

The Wookie keened a reply, grinning to show sharp, white teeth.

"That was before I knew where they were holding the meeting!" Han defended.

Chewie shrugged slightly, ruffing a considered reply. Han grasped at it with both hands, turning back to Leia, "See! Even Chewie thinks it's a bad idea!"

"He didn't say bad, he said 'not ideal'." Leia countered, three years' company with the Wookie beginning to rub off, "And sometimes we just have to do things anyway, whether they're ideal or not."

"But Bothawuii?" Han said, still incredulous, "At least persuade her to choose somewhere that's even halfway safe."

"It has to be Bothawuii Han- you know that. Mon can't afford to seem afraid to ally herself with them, especially now, when they're paying for our choices. We need to send a message of unity, not hesitation - that we'll support them under any circumstances. We'll be as careful as we can."

We, not she. Just when, Han reflected, had Leia become involved in this, 'cos all of a sudden she was in the task force heading out there. "But Bothawuii!? Why not just go to Coruscant and have done with it - hell, why not just camp out on the steps to the Palace."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what Bothawuii's main export is?" Han challenged, "Information; Intelligence. You're about to put the leader of the Alliance on a planet that sells secrets for a living. To both sides, I hasten to add. All you need is for one Bothan in Olin'yaa's camp to be a double agent and..."

"We're well aware of that." Leia said grimly.

"Well then don't do it! Am I the only one here who realises what a phenomenally bad idea this is?" He couldn't believe it- he just couldn't believe they were actually going to do this. The trouble with this place, Han knew, was that everyone went round all googly-eyed; they'd spent so long spouting all that stuff about trust and honour that they'd actually begun to believe it! It was all very well trying to live up to your principles, but that didn't mean you should assume that anybody else out there would feel under the slightest obligation to do the same.

"We have to do this, Han- we have to show that we're not afraid and that we'll stand by the Bothans no matter what."

"Can't we do that from Ammuud?" Han asked, the furthest planet he could name from the top of his head.

Leia smiled now, amused by Han's tenacious exasperation, leaning forward to kiss him on the chin - as high as she could reach when he was adamantly refusing to be mollified. "Relax, flyboy- you get to watch our back. We're taking Red, Blue and Gold wings on two Cutters."

"Great- two Cutters and three combat wings. That'll stop a Super Star Destroyer." Han said dryly.

"We'll be far more likely to just be able to slip in and out with the Arcturus and the Sol, rigged as Merchant Vessels." Leia assured of the small, fast cutters, each carrying only a hundred or so crew. "The Bothans have provided us with ID's and permits for comparable vessels which do the Bothawuii to Farlax run regularly."

"The Bothans know already!?" Han was incredulous, "Just... please - for me - at least move the venue."

Leia turned and started up the corridor again, Han trailing after her, Chewie patting him companionably on the back hard enough to make him stagger forward a step.

"The venue will be moved with a couple of hours to go- the Bothans don't know that yet. Only Mon, Madine, Massa and I know where. Happy now?"

"No" Han griped, "Just...marginally less unhappy. Where are you moving it to?"

"I'll tell you on the day." Leia teased.

"What- don't you trust me?" Han affected his most offended air, drawing level to the diminutive Princess to give her the full benefit.

Leia smiled primly, not in the least moved. "Well you are a smuggler, Solo."

"Yeah, but look how cute I am!"

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Luke flew the small one-man Interat-TIE at breakneck speed through the upper atmosphere, piling on more power, pushing up the G's so that even he was beginning to feel the pressure. The tiny, nimble craft, little more than a cramped cockpit between two huge air intakes and a complex series of stabiliser fins to compensate for the fierce propulsion system which threw it forward at formidable speeds, had become his fighter of choice.

Tighter in the turn than an X-Wing and faster on the straight than an A-Wing it demanded a great deal of its pilot, but these days Luke flew only when he needed a distraction, so its temperamental nature appealed. It was the fastest thing in the Imperial fleet, and the newest; only four wings existed, two on the Peerless and two on the Executor, leading Luke to wonder briefly whether his father had flown one yet. Probably; like Luke, he flew a TIE Interceptor in space, but they were near-useless in gravity dogfights, where the swift A-Wing and the agile X-Wing still ruled supreme. Designed specifically to fill this gap they would, Luke knew, appeal as much to his father as they did to him. It had after all, been his father who had kept pace with him when he'd hurtled down the cramped Death Star trench at suicidal speeds, Vader jockeying for the perfect kill as Luke had been juking his X-Wing to avoid presenting just that.

The Interat-Tie chose that moment to do a little juking of its own as it hit an air pocket which almost wrenched the stick from Luke's hand.

Chiding himself for not paying attention, Luke eased the erratic craft back under control as Coruscant's surface loomed, shipping lanes becoming visible now. The comm panel flickered briefly to indicate that the ship was communicating with Flight Control, then a series of circles lit the heads-up display, forming a virtual corridor in space high above the civilian flight paths. Luke fell into the near-empty military shipping lane, twisting the stick on impulse so that the I-TIE corkscrewed neatly upside-down, long clear canopy facing the planet's surface, leaving him dangling in his acceleration harness, looking at the world 'above' him, the diplomatic shuttle in which he was supposed to be travelling to the Palace disappearing from his line of view.

No-one had even flinched anymore in the docking bay of the Peerless as Luke had simply strode past the Lambda shuttle and up to the Fighter escort nearby. Reece was never happy when the Commander-in-Chief of the Core Fleet decided to take a jaunt in a one-man fighter - and an unpredictable one at that - but he'd learnt that this was just a method of letting off steam and didn't even utter a word. Nor did the fighter pilot, who simply stepped aside as Luke had neared, politely holding out his flight helmet. Mara Jade was less cooperative- in fact she was already heading to the next fighter when Luke took a long step back and into her path.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, but firm and resolute, "Don't follow me. I don't need a wingman and I don't want company."

She arched her eyebrows at him, tilting her head, "I think I'd already figured that out on both counts." she replied dryly, "But I've still got a job to do."

Luke remained in her path, but she only set her hand on one hip, a sure sign that she wasn't about to back down on this one, Luke knew.

"Look," she took a half-step forward, keeping her own voice low enough that only he would hear, "We can bicker and argue about it and keep everyone standing around uncomfortably and trying not to stare for the next hour if you want, at the end of which, short of you knocking me unconscious, I'll still get into that fighter and follow you down, otherwise the Emperor will want to know why. So why don't we just cut out the pudu and set off now?"

Luke stared at her for long seconds, aware that she had pulled her trump card; the trouble in letting people get close to you was that you got close to them too, an unwanted complication when he knew that if he stopped her from following him, then he would be putting her in all kinds of trouble. But the trick of dealing with a problem was to turn it to one's advantage.

"Fine- you want to come? Keep up."

He turned before she could reply and climbed the three short steps to the cockpit. Mara watched him suspiciously for a few seconds, then realised what he was about to do and sprinted for the next I-TIE.

Luke's fighter took off out of the docking bay like a spooked ronto, Mara only just stepping into her cockpit as the backwash from its engines blustered through her hair. Cursing, she dropped the canopy and set off after him, her helmet still in her lap. Reece, who had watched the distant argument with only mild interest, but enough to guess at what had been said, turned back to the shuttle and set off up the ramp.

"Like she has a chance." He murmured to himself as he boarded.

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It took Luke only minutes to lose Mara. She was a good pilot and she had nerves of steel, but she was well behind and it wasn't her forte. Against an ex-Wing Commander with natural aptitude and the kind of edge honed in battle conditions, she couldn't compete. Luke pushed the tiny fighter to its limits, taking the shortest path over the Dauntless, which hung between the Peerless and Coruscant, throwing sharp loops and tight twists about radar towers and external emplacements as he skimmed the surface, proximity alarms blaring in his helmet, the fighter buffeting as it skimmed the destroyers' navigation shields.

By the time he levelled up to hit the correct shear for atmospheric entry, she was practically off his combat scope, and he had to extend its range to locate her.

She'd catch up of course - she really wasn't a bad pilot, she just wasn't a combat pilot - and Luke had every intention of making sure that they landed on the Palace roof together. He just wanted to know whether she'd admit to Palpatine that she'd lost him for a while, knowing that Luke would do no such thing.

Now he eased back, aware that they were nearing the Capital, rolling the ship in a neat quarter-turn to squint into the evening sky above him, looking for her. Frowning, he reached out, casting a wide net of perception within the Force...

And flinched before the massed consciousness of the thousands of people below him.

Thousands of people...

He straightened the craft slowly, somehow strangely fascinated by that- by ordinary people, living ordinary lives... He couldn't remember anymore what that was like. Had he ever really known?

Slowing further, he dropped the I-TIE into civilian shipping lanes, the sleek lines of the powerful, cutting-edge fighter at odds with its more sedate companions now.

All those minds... How did they live their lives so blindly?

On impulse he closed his eyes, closed down his contact with the Force... and let go of the stick. Reaching out without opening his eyes, he ran his fingers over the familiar controls and flipped the breakers for the shields.

Blind, he relaxed his shoulders and gave the moment over to fate-

He felt... absolutely calm, listening to his own slow breathing, aware of the fighter gradually banking to one side, his weight leaning heavy in the acceleration harness...

If he just stayed like this... then all of his problems would be gone, he knew. The weight pressing down on him would be lifted and he would fall into the blackness of oblivion. No more Emperor, no more plans and deceptions, wheels within wheels and lies within lies- Palpatine's and his own. It had become so hard, just to hold against the storm.

He didn't recognise himself anymore... didn't like what he saw in his place.

And it would be so easy... just stay like this - just close his eyes and let fate rush in...

A pacific calm came over him at that, at the knowledge that it could all be gone in an instant if he could just let go- stop struggling to survive, to change things, to prevail. Stop trying to take responsibility for everything- let someone else fight this fight...

The harness dug at his shoulders, the shadows playing over closed eyelids as the ship turned unheeded...

Seconds now... how could it be more...

...relax...

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"LUKE!!"

His hand twitched involuntarily to the stick in the last possible second, wrenching the I-TIE down in a twisting corkscrew which pulled it just clear of the massive oncoming transport, close enough that he sheared off the short induction antennae from its hull, Mara still yelling in his headset, her voice wild and panicked and angry all at once.

"What the hell are you doing!? Are your stabilisers out? Do you have a malfunction? Can you hear me? Luke? Luke?!"

"I'm fine." he said simply, voice composed and neutral, as if nothing at all had happened.

"What were you doing?" Mara repeated, still almost shouting.

"I was waiting for you." He replied easily.

"You were almost upside down heading into an oncoming shipping lane!" She couldn't believe what she'd just seen - what was he thinking? What was he doing!!

"Really?" he said blandly, not at all concerned, "Then it's a good job you got here."

"I... are you..." Mara struggled to pull a coherent thought together against the burst of adrenaline-laced fear that had gripped her when she'd seen his craft freefalling.

His voice cut through her shocked stumble, still laced with that unruffled, strangely detached calm, "We should pull up into military shipping lanes- we'll be in Palace airspace any time now." He paused just slightly, mind completely back on track, wishing to be sure that his next remark sunk in, "They won't have picked us up yet- we should go in together."

He pulled up into the military flight corridor, slowing further as Mara took up wing position, waiting for the comm to request ID's as they neared the restricted airspace around the Palace.

Mara went through the motions on mental autopilot, her heart pounding against her ribs, breath short, mind racing with the buzz of adrenalin, only slowly receeding at the sound of Luke's voice... still trying to figure out what the hell she'd just seen...