In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 10

The Emperor's Throne Room actually consisted of a sumptuous suite of grand chambers with a huge counterweighted system of sliding, gilded partition walls running either side of its length which could open the divisions into a single immense, imposing space or divide it off into a series of private audience chambers to the sides of the main chamber, their use generally inferring some kind of endorsement or favor if one was received within, the individual required to traverse the processional through the incredibly opulent Throne Room itself, under the watchful eye of all those attending Court.

Luke had walked impassively through the main processional, unmoved by the jealous eyes on him; most of his audiences with his Master were in private and despite common opinion, they had never, in his experience, inferred anything other than the fact that the Emperor was playing his games on a larger scale, everyone involved, whether they wished it or not.

He reflected as he reached the carved stone dais, pausing to bow before his Master prior to continuing on to the private ante-chamber to the side of the impressive space, that it had always seemed strange that the Throne Room had no windows as such, only three tall, narrow slits in the feet-thick walls to either side of the dais, their limited size allowing only the tiniest of slivers of daylight without giving any view of the Empire beyond. Two small circular skylights at roof level projected perfect discs which trailed across the pale circle of marble set into the Throne Room floor beneath the throne, their cast fading from bright, dazzling white to blazing sunset red as day turned to night, but they too gave no view of the city beyond.

But then Palpatine had always looked inward, never out to his Empire. Hard-earned experience of his Master's perspective had afforded Luke the knowledge that his interest in ruling was in the power he personally wielded rather than the Empire he controlled, his fascination in dominating and manipulating the individual. If he had bothered to look out to his Empire more often, he might realize how it groaned beneath the oppressive weight of heavy governing, greedy taxes and unwarranted restrictions- might see how this could fire revolt and feed rebellion.

But he didn't care to look. Didn't care.

It would be his undoing, his lack of compassion. That which had made him willing to pay any price to gain power would one day bring him low. His greed and his self-serving conceit and his blind arrogance.

The tall gilded partition slid smoothly aside as Luke entered the empty stillness of the ante-room, closing soundlessly behind him, the lights in the chamber raising to a subtle radiance which made the sliding panels glow luminous in the low light, their precious-metal surface intricately etched and enamelled with an interlocking rendition of the Core Systems.

The incredible, priceless panels ran floor to ceiling to either side of the entire length of the main Throne Room, each depicting separate sectors of Imperial Space- 'lest the Emperor forget what he owned, Luke supposed dryly.

Aware that he would have a long wait, divided and hidden from Court now, Luke studied the enamelled panel as he had done so many times before in the extravagant opulence of the high, gilded-ceiling chamber, his back to the empty throne within, the only item in the long ante-room. Lost in his thoughts, Luke studied the elaborate artistry, appreciating again the talent and expertise of the craftsmen who had realized it.

Trying not to think about how in the galaxy a kid from Tatooine had come to be stood here, on Coruscant, in the Imperial Palace, in the private chamber of the ruler of the Empire...

Wondering which panel depicted his homeworld of Tatooine as some tiny, insignificant little dustball circling fierce, binary suns. It had never occurred to him to look before.

Now he was driven by an intense pang of desire to track it down; for what he didn't know; it was only a mark on a map, and an inaccurate, inventive rendition at that- but the longing to find it in that moment was all-consuming. To just... touch that point on the elaborate star charts... To touch home- to touch innocence; integrity... or as close as he would ever come again.

But regret bought nothing here and guilt was simply a weakness to be exploited in his Master's eyes- he'd learned that long ago. He resolutely turned his back on the map and stared without seeing at the throne, waiting for his Master, aware of the buzzing pressure in the back of his mind which signalled Palpatine's close presence.

The momentary freedom afforded by the massed anonymity of the Capital beyond was lost to him now, the restless, rueful mind-games he allowed himself when hidden by it's densely-concentrated populace forbidden. He could afford no misgivings before Palpatine, no fractures in his shields.

He had an agenda, and while he didn't expect to forward it today beneath his Master's desire to re-establish authority over his wayward advocate, then he knew better than to lower his defences. As long as he kept his head and was suitably contrite - and had the lure of a greater incentive to distract and cloud the issue - then some degree of success was attainable.

Today was simply laying the groundwork... and paying the price. It was the instigation of a reworking of boundaries, both mental and physical - and there was always a price to be paid for that, he knew. It was, as ever, simply a question of how much.

He took a deep, calm breath and went again through the mental discipline of putting all the thoughts and doubts he held carefully away behind mental shields. There was to be no weakness here - not before for his Master's harsh scrutiny.

And so he remained, stood to loose attention in the opulent, airless room, his feet set apart, his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the grating, nagging pain this instilled deep in his left shoulder even months after his recovery. The overshadowing presence of his Master cloyed his mind from this close, though he sensed nothing specific in it, neither anger nor tolerance, all intent hidden walls within walls; a mirror of his own mind when in the Emperor's presence- they both played these games too well.

Still he waited, aware that this too was part of his Master's intent; to set him on edge and give time for his thoughts to wander.

Minutes turned into hours and he waited, head down, eyes closed...

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He was roused from his reverie by the smooth slide of the massive etched-metal panels, the mechanism almost silent. He didn't turn as his Master entered, the whisper of heavy robes over marble floors sending a momentary twist of foreboding up his spine at the still-intense memories of too many days and nights caged in the cells far below the Palace, when the entrance of his Master to the cell marked the beginning of yet another cycle of torment and pain.

Palpatine walked the length of the long room in silence, aware of the brief instant of panic which his feral Jedi quickly quashed, a sure sign that he was guilty of something, even if Palpatine didn't know what yet. It was rare indeed that the boy allowed even a sliver of emotion to show through his impenetrable shields aside from that steadfast resolve not to be intimidated.

He had called his Jedi here to answer for his curious actions against the Bothans... but perhaps there were deeper issues to be exposed.

The Emperor took the final two steps onto the low, raised dais and settled on his throne before looking to his Jedi as the boy knelt quietly before his Master, eyes down.

They remained like this for long seconds, Palpatine waiting for the boy to crack and ask why he was here- but he had regained control of his emotions and was clearly willing to wait his Master out in silence, one knee to the ground, his arm resting on the other, head down.

Palpatine settled again, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Why are you here?" he said at last, tone long-suffering and exasperated.

"Because you summoned me, Master." The boy replied smoothly, nothing revealed.

"And why would I need to do that?" Palpatine prompted, and watched his Jedi pause just slightly, weighing up the consequences of continuing to prevaricate for no other reason than his own stubbornness.

"I'm sure you have your reasons." Skywalker said at last, eyes still to the floor.

Luke kept his head down, chiding himself for continuing to defy simply because he resented the condescending, self-righteous tone in his Master's voice. He'd come to validate his actions against the Bothans and to gain permission to go after the Rebellion. He wouldn't get that by digging his heels in - he'd be lucky to get it at all.

Ordering himself to back down, he stood, lifting his eyes to the Emperor, arranging a penitent expression on his face.

Palpatine narrowed his eyes; the boy would have a reason for everything that he had done, he knew that; he wasn't in the habit of simply lashing out to ease his frustration as his father was wont to do. If he pursued an action this relentlessly then there was some logic to it even though such facts had been pointedly left off the notably few official reports which had been sent from the Peerless in the last few months.

Again Palpatine resettled his weight, lounging comfortably in the chair, subtle messages even in this, before finally launching the inevitable game, the tone of hiss gravelly voice hovering somewhere between annoyance and exasperation; "What are you doing?"

It was tempting to claim he was simply standing before his Master, but Luke bit down the sarcasm and made a direct reply.

"What my father seems incapable of." Luke said simply, "Removing those who present a threat to your Empire."

"Really? Yet my Empire seems to have stumbled along with only your father's service for the last two decades." Palpatine's reedy voice was hard and dry, making Luke aware of just how fine-a line he was walking right now. He needed to diffuse this, and quickly.

"Command me, and I'll stop." He said, knowing Palpatine would call his bluff which was, at this point, irrelevant. He was already prepared to concede; it had served it purpose, its only further value to forfeit as a appeasement.

"Stop attacking the Bothans." Palpatine said immediately.

"As you wish, Master." Luke bowed his head just slightly in acquiescence, the perfect advocate.

Again Palpatine fell to wary silence and Luke didn't need to look up to know that he was suspected of manipulation, but he lifted his eyes to meet his Masters, trying to keep his expression if not his mind as open as possible, hoping to satiate his Master's anger enough that he was prepared to listen.

"Why them?" Palpatine asked, voice low.

Luke suppressed any trace of satisfaction, "It wasn't arbitrary, Master. I had a goal - and it was successful."

Palpatine stared at him for a long time, hard ochre eyes glinting beneath the folds of the heavy black hood and cowl he wore. Luke forced himself to meet that gaze; not to blink before it...

After long seconds, reminding himself again of his true goals here, Luke glanced away, averting his eyes. The silence hung heavy in the soulless extravagance of the magnificent room, Luke willing his Master to ask...

But Palpatine was not so easily led.

"The Bothans provide a great deal of information to Black Sun." His Master said, ignoring Luke's claim of success.

"They also provide a great deal of information to the Rebellion. I chose my marks with care."

His Master sat back considering, not even nearly willing to let this go as yet. "You asked for wide-ranging permissions knowing the specific action you intended to take."

"I asked for authorization to go after my attackers, which you gave, within the bounds of my jurisdicton- this was simply the first step. It was a means to an end."

And there it was again, Palpatine noted; that same blurring of the lines that the boy always used to hedge around the edges of disobeying, the same justification he so often applied to his Master's orders to bend them to his own needs. Skywalker stood tall and straight, hands clasped behind his back- not nearly as confident as he seemed, Palpatine knew, but at least as determined not to be intimidated. The Emperor brought a sallow, wasted hand to his mouth, to hide the slight smile, suddenly indulgent of his Wolf's composure, his coolness under fire.

"And what do you have to show for your efforts?"

It was, Palpatine knew, exactly what the boy had wanted him to ask and he looked up, eyes alight. "The location of Mon Mothma. Guaranteed- a specific day, an exact time."

Palpatine leaned forward just slightly, drawn in, the game of wits forgotten. "Guaranteed?"

"Mothma brokered the deal between the Bothans and the Rebellion herself." Still angling for permissions, Luke offered this piece of information openly to underline both his commitment to Palpatine and his inside knowledge of the Rebellion; the only two cards he could play to force his Master's hand. "She'll go personally to Bothawuii to reassure them- firstly because she feels responsible, and secondly because they're part of her own power base. That's why I pursued the Bothans- to draw her out. To force her actions."

Palpatine considered, pale, waxen finger rubbing against thin lips, "And you know when she will be there."

"To the hour. I even know that the venue will be changed shortly before the meeting. Give me permission to take a task force out to Bothawuii and I'll bring her to you - that's all I ask."

Palpatine brought his eyes to the boy again, a subtle tendril of the Force to reaching out to search... He could feel his desperate desire to gain this permission- and he knew exactly why his Wolf thought he wouldn't get it. "Bothawuii is in the Rim Regions..."

"Vader won't catch her- he doesn't know the Rebels like I do."

"Then tell him."

Luke shook his head, not yet willing to let this go. "The situation will be too fluid. I know their procedures. I know their Commanders. I know their weaknesses. It has to be me."

"It has to be?" Palpatine repeated, amused.

"I'm asking for permission."

Palpatine didn't miss the insinuation; that at least his Wolf was asking, not just twisting his Masters' previous consent to go after his assassins, stretching it to imply permission to leave the Core Regions in pursuit. That would be a step too far and he knew it - not even returning with Mothma would buy him immunity from Palpatine's rage if he disobeyed to that degree. Palpatine settled back again, eyes on his Jedi, who held his breath in anticipation...

The boy had invested considerable time and commitment in this; where was the harm in letting him take down his aggressor in person? It was after all what Palpatine had originally hoped; that he could incite Skywalker to turn on his previous allies. Now the boy was trying to make that very show of commitment, Palpatine knew, and an undeniably valuable one at that... and the fact that he had achieved this in less than three months, the last month with limited Intelligence, due to the silence of Leemarit...

The Emperor's eyes narrowed as a sudden realisation occurred, "How do you know when she will be there?"

Luke paused, mind racing at the unexpected question and the tone in his Master's voice- what did Palpatine know? Was he digging for information or laying a trap? Answer! Quickly!

"Intelligence, Master." Luke gave the vague reply dismissively, as if curious that Palpatine would even bother to ask, hoping to draw his Master on without closer scrutiny, though he didn't yet know why that tightened his throat in apprehahsion, "There are..."

"Your last Bothan prisoners were taken onboard the Peerless ten days ago..." Palpatine spoke across him, tone cooling.

Veers! Luke bit back the frustration. He'd worked hard to hide the specifics of various capture dates from prying eyes, constantly moving and re-splitting the Bothan prisoners, dividing and recombining them again and again so that no-one had the complete picture. Except perhaps Mara, whom he'd taken great care to keep busy... and Veers, who was the only other person onboard the Peerless with high enough rank to afford some overview.

The Emperor set his head to one side, manner increasingly dangerous. "Yet there have been no transmissions to Intel from my Rebel spy Leemarit for a month... If you had Mothma's guaranteed decision a month ago then continuing to harry insignificant Bothan minions seems... uncommonly wasteful. Uncharacteristically so, one might say. If you did not, then I am moved to wonder where your recent information regarding Mothma's decision came from. Your explanation?"

The question blaring in Luke's mind now was, did his Master already know of Luke's removal of Leemarit and this was all simply a trap being laid, or was this an educated guess? As far as Luke knew, Karrde's assassin had fulfilled his brief to kill Leemarit and been killed making good his escape - hardly surprising since Luke himself had contacted the Rebels to hand over the man's identity. It had been, from beginning to end, a textbook operation... as far as Luke knew.

Suddenly, with Veer's unanticipated interference, the issue of whether or not Luke would be allowed to go after Mon Mothma had become secondary... whether or not he spent the following weeks in a cell, subjected to Palpatine's vindictive 'chastisement' had become the relevant issue. The Emperor tolerated a great deal from his wayward protégé, but lies to his Master were the ultimate offence and were always met with the harshest punishment.

Luke's thoughts reeled, though he kept his face a mask and forced his mind to work: he could of course claim that the staggered series of arrests were to keep up the steady pressure- to ensure Mothma's continued intent. He could even claim some implacable, vindictive drive; revenge on any and all detractors involved in his attack. But if Palpatine already knew the truth, either one would be a direct lie- to his Master's face.

The alternative then, was to tell the truth - or as near to the truth as the situation allowed. The absolute truth was that he was serving his long-term strategy- looking to the greater plan. Whilst a spy belonging to his Master in any other position within the Rebellion would be an acceptable risk, Leemarit was the Communications Chief aboard the Rebel flagship and Luke's continued involvement with those onboard in handing over information, however unsympathetically, would result in an extended spell of 'correction' if his Master found out. Which there was a good chance of if the Comm Chief - the being who monitored all ingoing and outgoing comms - happened to be Palpatine's spy. It would be literally years before Palpatine would trust Luke again- before he would even let his precious Jedi out of his sight.

No; having finally found out the name of Palpatine's spy, he'd had to remove Leemarit as soon as possible, his access to all comms - those Luke sent to the Rebels and those Argot sent to him - was simply too dangerous to be allowed to continue.

His chosen course of action in having Leemarit assassinated then revealing the assassin - carefully timed to be too late to prevent it of course - had gained credibility and trust for his invented 'Imperial traitor' whilst ensuring the ongoing safety of Argot, Luke's own spy on the Rebel flagship. All this had been running in the background, hidden away beneath Luke's action against the Bothans, and it had worked perfectly - until now.

He had of course intended to be found out eventually anyway - or rather to come clean - but only when he had captured Mon Mothma and so proved his commitment to the Emperor. To do so now, with nothing to show for his questionable actions in removing Palpatine's long-standing spy, was a dangerous gamble.

Handing Mothma over was to be proof of his commitment and distraction from Luke's need to remove Leemarit. Explaining the finer details of how he'd achieved the capture of the elusive leader of the Rebellion - after he had done so - was to have been evidence of Luke's competence, both in terms of general experience and his familiarity and expertise in matters to do with the Rebellion.

And all of this to hide a greater cause; the definitive intent which had crystallised during his recovery and was now being pursued with relentless drive, engineered through subtle plays and hidden agenda's. But before he could set his greater plan in motion, Luke needed two things; control of the campaign against the Rebellion, and to create a certain mindset; guarantee a specific weakness in the Rebellion that he alone could exploit. One that would be invisible from the outside and from within.

Wheels within wheels within wheels - a precarious game for the highest stakes, just as his Master had taught him, in actions if not in words. But all this later, when the situation allowed; not now. Now it only clouded the issue. He'd only needed a week- two at the outside.

Can't be helped now. Move forward.

Palpatine was watching him expectantly...

Word it carefully- "I needed their trust to get to Mothma. Leemarit bought me that."

"You gave them my Rodian." Palpatine grated, eyes narrowed in threat, "He has been a reliable source of information for many years."

Luke didn't flinch beneath that gaze- perhaps he should have, just a little? Too late now- go with the plan; it was too early and he knew it, but concocting something under pressure would force mistakes and his Master was too wily an opponent to ever try such a gambit with. "I've replaced him. There's already another agent in place- I wouldn't leave us blind."

"And he is?"

"Trustworthy, Master. You taught me well." Oh, he shouldn't have said it like that. Luke saw his Master's eyes narrow, but he couldn't give up that information, not yet.

The Emperor didn't fail to notice the double meaning behind Skywalker's words, nor the fact that he didn't yield beneath his Masters obvious disapproval; didn't pass over this new agents name - well-taught indeed.

"There was no need to replace him." Palpatine grated, not caring about the agent, only that his Jedi had done this without his permission.

"For you, Master - for me, there was every need."

Palpatine only lifted his eyebrows in impatient expectation.

"He crossed me." Luke stated flatly, mind still racing, searching for something Palpatine would understand- believe. "Whether he knew who I was or not was immaterial. Three years ago he sold me out to the Alliance. You taught me never to leave a score unpaid, Master- what did you expect, once you gave me his name?"

The brief memory of his Wolf's interest when Palpatine had fist quoted Leemarit's name came abruptly to mind, though at the time Palpatine had assumed it interest in the information which had so completely condemned Mothma. Palpatine seethed at his own misreading of the situation, his anger turning instantly on the boy. Even if his reason for removing Leemarit was genuine, it was still done without his Master's consent.

"Besides," his Jedi added, neatly throwing out a second reason, equally valid, "It was a gamble to leave him in place- what if he'd been discovered? He knew far too much about Luke Skywalker - knew that he wasn't an Imperial... not at the time Leemarit implicated him. If they'd found out that the Rodian was your spy..." he left the rest unsaid.

"So you sold him to them. And now they'll check his past and question everything he's ever done - including uncovering you."

Too soon- too soon to be revealing this. It would only cloud the issue, Luke knew; jeopardize his chances to go after Mothma. But there was nothing to be done now except roll with the punches and watch for his chance to take the conversation back where he needed it. Trying to avoid or redirect it now would only make Palpatine more suspicious. "No Master. He died with his reputation intact- I sent a mercenary in to assassinate him. One who knew only that The Heir wanted revenge on the Rebel who had broken his cover. It was him I sold to the Alliance- after he'd done his job of course. I believe he was killed, but if not they can interrogate him all they want, he'll only corroborate their beliefs. I'd already put another agent quietly into position, completely unconnected. Someone I trust, well-placed."

"You have been planning this for some time." Palpatine said; this was no gut reaction- placing people within the Rebellion was difficult. Admittedly, as the boy had just illustrated by being able to do this, he knew their methods better than most, having fought alongside them for three years. But still, this was a long-term plan- even more than it first seemed, he suspected. Here was the reason behind his momentary burst of misgiving when Palpatine had first entered the room- as well it might be!

"As part of a greater plan, yes." The boy said, wary and rightfully so, since Palpatine had banned him from any involvement in hunting down the Rebels. "I wanted Mothma- you told me yourself that it was she who signed the order for my assassination... you knew I'd act on it."

"With my permission! I gave permission to go after those who had aided in the attempt within your jurisdiction."

Luke met the Emperor's eye; "Then give me the jurisdiction; give me control of the anti-insurrection task force."

Palpatine hesitated, momentarily thrown by the unprecedented request; by the raw desire in the boy's voice. Had his plan in spurring the Rebels to reject Skywalker been this successful? Because the desire, the need in the boy's appeal now sung out like a pure note in the Force.

It mollified him... somewhat. Calmed his tone as he settled back into his ornate throne. "Vader is charged with command of the anti-insurgency task-force."

"Vader is too slow." Luke made no connection in any way between himself and his father before the Emperor, knowing from long experience that this was something his Master would not tolerate.

Palpatine studied his feral Jedi, who made no attempt to avoid or avert his own gaze. His cold blue eyes were as guarded as ever, aware that he was skating on the edge, but that was where he lived his life now anyway so it held no real fear for him. Which was why Palpatine enjoyed his company; he was hard to intimidate, hard to control. But therein lay the thrill.

Still, he wouldn't let the boy off so easily; "If you had wanted Leemarit dead, you should have asked for permission to kill him."

"Leemarit was a minor detail. I wanted to prove my value - that I could bring your enemies down better than Vader." His Wolf inclined his head, making a show of submission when he felt no such thing, Palpatine knew.

He hadn't failed to realise that any information which he now received would come first through his Jedi, and not directly to him. He could force the boy to tell him the spy's identity, could take over the contact, but it would be a show of weakness on his part and he had no guarantee of allegiance from an agent he had not himself recruited and placed. He would of course place another spy in that cell, but that would take time and wouldn't negate the fact that his Jedi still had his own reliable source of information, legitimately placed.

Oh, he was learning his lessons at the hand of the Master a little too well, Palpatine sometimes suspected- and certainly far more than he let show.

"And the action gained so much-" the boy said persuasively into Palpatine's calculating silence, "Mothma, if you'll let me bring her to you."

"Let you bring her." Palpatine repeated, emphasising the word, nodding knowingly, "And of course, it should be you, because you know her intent?"

Luke almost slipped - almost said 'my'- but caught himself before his lips had begun forming the word, which would have been as damning as speaking it out loud before Palpatine's close scrutiny. "Your newly-placed informant does. Exactly- to the hour."

The conversation was back where he wanted it- though he knew the Emperor's tolerance was anything but, "I can deliver her to you, Master- if you'll let me."

He stepped forward without realising as he spoke, so driven was he. And here, Palpatine realised; here was his opportunity to punish the boy.

"No." He said simply, settling back now, waiting to watch the fireworks.

He wasn't disappointed.

"No!?" The boy practically shouted, so disbelieving was he, all composure shattered.

How wonderfully he snapped- Palpatine never tired of seeing it. "No. You acted without my permission. This is your father's jurisdiction and you know it."

"I gained the information in months that he's wasted decades chasing! Because I know them- their strengths and weaknesses. I can trap her."

"Why should I let you?" Palpatine goaded, amused at his frustration now.

"Because I deserve it. Because she tried to kill me. It's my right to bring her in, not his."

"Then you defied me simply to fulfil your own private vendetta?" Palpatine said, his own voice raising, knowing he had the boy now, that his anger and exasperation left chinks in that normally unassailable armour. That he still had something to learn was reassuring.

"No Master." The boy ground out, frustrated at being cornered.

"You have no rights!" Palpatine boomed, making him drop his head genuinely now, clenching his jaw against his Master's wrath. Palpatine pointed one bone-thin finger to the floor and without looking up the boy knew and bent to one knee before him. Slowly though, reluctantly - which only served to feed Palpatine's anger. "You're nothing! Everything that you are, I have made you. Everything that you think and everything that you do is to suit my purpose - do you understand?!"

".... Yes, Master." He said quietly, though it cost him dear, Palpatine could see that.

He rose, stalking toward the tensing boy, stooping before him- to reach out and gently stroke his cheek with the back of his fingers, his nails catching over the ridges of the scar there, his Jedi tensing, unsettled at the unanticipated touch.

"Don't think to cross me." Palpatine murmured menacingly, leaning in. "You are not nearly beyond me yet, child."

He lifted the boy's head, nails digging a fine line into the skin on his jaw as he trailed them free. "Don't make me repeat the same lessons again and again."

The threat inherent in those quietly spoken words brought the boy's mismatched eyes up to his momentarily. They were lessons hard learned in blood and broken bones, and they both knew that Palpatine would not hesitate to reinforce them if he thought his control slipping. Had not hesitated in the past.

"Do you understand?" Palpatine murmured, pale hand trailing back over his Wolf's scarred lips.

Skywalker jerked back just slightly in distaste, unable to stop the reflex action. "Yes Master. I understand."

Oh, there was resentment in those eyes. Fury and fear both. Palpatine smiled, gratified far more by his reluctance than he ever could have been by his fallen Jedi's submission.

Three years since he had first knelt before Palpatine and he was no less the wolf today than he had always been. Just as wild and as feral; still trying to run, still searching to test the chains which bound him. But held in check now, tame enough to walk to heel, controlled by sheer force of will on Palpatine's part.

Which was a wonderful, empowering, enthralling thing.

He turned his back on the boy and walked easily away, dismissive and purposely so, keeping him on edge, unsure what his Master would do next.

"Turn the details over to Lord Vader." Palpatine said evenly, pausing before the elaborate screen as it slid open. "He commands the anti-insurrection force; he will deal with this. You are not to involve yourself further."

"Yes Master." His Jedi bowed his head, though there was no respect in the act, only wary capitulation. But that was enough.

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Reece walked wearily into the medi-bay onboard the Peerless, glancing about for Hallin. The slight medic was in a side room, engrossed in some chemical breakdown on the holo-screen when Reece stepped in, his bulky frame dwarfing the smaller man.

"We're back in the Palace." Reece stated simply, his tone one which indicated that this was no great revelation.

"Have we been grounded again?" Hallin asked wearily; he'd stayed overnight in his quarters in the Palace before returning to the Peerless, as was originally arranged. Now it appeared there had been a change of plan, though they had all expected this to some extent- it was a regular thing for The Heir to be restricted to the Palace for some supposed insubordination and this time it wasn't even 'supposed', so no-one was really surprised, least of all Hallin.

The truth, Hallin deeply suspected, was that the Emperor simply liked his Jedi close at hand, and would use any excuse to keep him so without actually restricting him permanently to the Palace, which Skywalker, being Skywalker, would take as an open challenge to leave by any means possible.

Which was why Reece's answer came as a genuine surprise to Hallin. "No. But The Heir was refused permission to leave the Core Systems as he'd intended."

The ideal of course, Hallin had always thought, would be for all of his medi-bay, along with Reece's and The Heir's offices and private quarters, to be kept free of all surveillance devices so that they could talk freely, but Luke had logically pointed out that to do that was tantamount to admitting their collusion out loud, so there were few rooms in the medi-bay that were safe to talk out loud in and this wasn't one of them, requiring a little mental editing to read between the lines of what was spoken out loud- kind of like learning another language.

"I believe The Heir's hoping that he'll be able to persuade the Emperor to rescind the veto." Reece said diplomatically for the benefit of surveillance transmitters, the translation of which, Hallin knew, was that The Heir wished it known that he was still willing to negotiate some kind of deal on The Emperor's terms.

"But if not, I know he's making preparations for an extended tour of the non-trade route Colonies along with the Fury and the Dauntless. I believe he'll use this return to the Palace as an opportunity to make sure that his affairs are in order for the protracted tour of duty."

Translation: If Palpatine didn't let him go on this little jaunt outside the Core Systems, then Skywalker would make it his mission to stay away from Coruscant as long as possible.

Sometimes surveillance could be a rather helpful way to put one's point across without having to resort to anything as crude as speaking it out loud.

"The Heir's ordered all of his personal staff back down to the Palace- your shuttle leaves the main bay in four hours. Please be prompt. If you have any queries, then I'll be in The Heir's ready-room on the bridge tying up his affairs here."

Which meant, of course, 'I'm in one of the few rooms onboard the Peerless which isn't bugged, so come up and see me if you need to talk before you leave'.

Life was so much easier when you knew the language.

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Mara found Skywalker in the ebony-floored Practice Halls, beginning his early morning lightsaber stanza. They now practiced together every other day, though he'd resumed daily practice, as his injuries allowed. They also practiced close-quarters combat every other evening, each proficient at the other's speciality but appreciating the chance to polish their own skills.

And of course, Mara simply enjoyed his company, though she'd never admit that out loud.

He was always at his most relaxed during these sessions Mara knew, his mind completely focused in the moment, all those tight defences slipping just slightly.

Which was good, because she had a mission today. He'd shut himself away in the private rooms of his apartments yesterday following his meeting with the Emperor and even Mara had known better than to try to follow him. Instead, she'd spent the evening thinking about his actions on the incoming flight, eventually taking a trip back down to the maintenance bays to check the download of his fighter's system log.

According to the log, there was no malfunction in any system when he'd spun slowly out of control and into oncoming flight lanes. The onboard systems registered the near-collision and the fact that it had sounded warnings in the cockpit a full ten seconds before the projected impact but no action was taken. Checking back further revealed something even more puzzling- shortly before that, the shields had been deactivated and the log registered no pressure on the stick for thirty seconds, which should have been the cut-off at which the 'dead-mans stick', the system autopilot, activated. The stick itself had 'buzzed'- the vibration a standard warning that autopilot was about to cut in - and there had been a two-second pressure on it... just enough for the autopilot to begin its countdown from thirty again.

Which meant he'd actually released the stick of his fighter and just... allowed it to drift into oncoming shipping. Purposely, because when it had tried to activate the autopilot he'd done just enough to disable it again and leave the tiny craft in freefall, shields down...

She'd sat in the fighter for more than an hour trying to fathom that one. Unable to come up with any rational explanation she'd decided to go straight to the source, and to stand any chance of getting the truth from him, she'd chosen her moment with care.

He completed the Kata as she set forward, studying his form. He was growing a little smoother every day now; a little closer to his previous level. His left side was still weak and stiff to Mara's trained eye, but not enough that it offered her any advantage anymore in lightsaber practice though in the close quarters combat practice it still left him vulnerable... and she wasn't above taking any advantage she could get when going up against Skywalker. Either in combat practice or drawing information out of that wary forest of defences.

The trick, Mara knew, was to catch him at his most confident and therefore at his most relaxed- and that was always with a lightsaber in his hand.

He turned to her, waiting for her to cross the ebony floor of the large Practice Hall, chest still rising from the exertion of the forms. As he waited, he swung his saber in a slow loop to either side of his body, then began to release the hilt as it made its return loop, catching it with alternate hands, making Mara wince.

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but these things are dangerous." she said, holding her own saber hilt up.

He smiled loosely, unperturbed, "Your trouble is that you practice too much with those 'safe' blades." He said of the practice sabres in the cabinet at the far wall, "You're afraid of a live lightsaber."

Mara was unrepentant. "I'd say that's a reasonable reaction to something that cuts limbs off on contact."

"There's a galaxy of difference between being nervous of something and holding a healthy respect for it. If you flinch every time a live blade comes close to your face, it's pretty much a self-fulfilling prophesy."

Mara raised her eyebrows, "I don't flin..."

As she spoke, Luke whipped his saber up in a lightening-fast roundhouse blow which levelled out at her chin, Mara activating her blade and bringing it up to block in the same moment. His ruby blade stopped dead at her shoulder as she shied back, no power in her hasty parry.

"You flinched." he said simply.

"Well you would have flinched at that!!" Mara shouted, heart pumping.

"No, I would have ducked." he grinned, lowering his blade, "With your arms pulled in so close to your body like that, you'd never have anywhere near the force necessary stop this kind of wide, sweeping blow - unless you took the strike very close to the hilt, which is always a gamble because either you'd just get carried back with the incoming blade or more likely, your opponent needs only make a slight change in trajectory to cut your saber hilt in two- which would be the least of your problems because he'd probably drop just a little lower and slice both your hands off... then just keep on going through your neck."

"Fine." Mara said, internalising that burst of information, "Next time I'll duck."

He shrugged, "I'd probably make some effort to make contact with the incoming blade too, just to limit my opponent's responses but yeah, basically I'd be getting the hell out of its way. Any blow with that kind of power is difficult to deal with."

Mara nodded, considering; Skywalker had turned out to be quite a good teacher, casual enough in his approach that she didn't take umbrage or feel that he was talking down to her despite his obvious expertise, and his own openness and willingness to listen in their sessions together working on close-quarters-combat, in which Mara was still holding the upper hand- just- were the example which enabled her to view his lightsaber lessons with the same conscientious grace.

"So," she said, "If they're so difficult to block, why don't they get used more often?"

He pulled his saber up and back, as if to deliver another wide blow, then froze. "Because there's a good half-second when the blade's back here past my own shoulder line, leaving me wide open to any attack if my opponent has fast reflexes." He brought the blade around again, slower this time, and Mara forced herself to keep from flinching as it came in, though she still somehow ended up with her own blade pulled in tight to her body as she blocked instinctively.

"You need to catch the blade and just guide it past yourself." he said, "Deflect it, don't try to stop its momentum- it's too great. Here, make the move on me."

She brought the live blade around slowly and he simply batted it down dismissively, "Like you mean it."

Raising her eyebrows, Mara swung back and brought her saber in horizontally with real force, Skywalker catching it up with his own, leaning back just slightly on his centre of gravity as he angled the two blades forward without looking, to guide them over and past his head, taking a short backstep as he did so, the move ending with his own blade over Mara's; always the desired position since it gave the wielder control.

Mara nodded in appreciation as he straightened and took a slow step forward and to her side to illustrate this, his sabre remaining high but horizontal, so that as he moved forward he was effectively inside her defences with a killing blow.

"That's why you can't be afraid of your own blade- it's always got to be between you and your opponent's lightsaber, no matter how close that is." He stepped to the side, hands out low before him, making slow loops with his saber to either side of his body, passing the hilt smoothly from one hand to the other as he did so. "Just try this- you can go wide to start with."

Mara followed suit, holding her blade out before her, the look of concentration on her face as she made the first loop and tried a cagey pass-over of the hilt making Skywalker stifle a smile.

"Are you laughing at me?!" she said, stopping dead.

"Absolutely not." he countered, "Keep going..."

Mara started the slow loop again then paused, "You are!"

"I'm not! I'm laughing with you."

"I'm not laughing."

"Really? You would if you could see your expression."

"Okay, that's it."

"Sorry." He smiled disarmingly, "Sorry; I take it back. You should... keep practicing. When you can do it without... scrunching your face up like that, you'll know you've mastered it."

"Is that why you do it-" Mara asked, "So you're not afraid of a live blade?

"Yeah-" He grinned wickedly, allowing the casual drawl of his natural Rim accent for a moment- something he often did when alone with Mara, "But I also like to do it just because it freaks you out."

Mara just couldn't help but flash a sarcastic smile in return, "Hey, you want to cut your own ears off, that's fine with me."

"You just don't want to have to be the one who has to tell Palpatine when I do, right?"

"Precisely." Mara said primly, "He was just trying to make sure he wasn't afraid, Excellency, and he accidentally cut his own head off."

Luke shrugged, "No great loss."

Mara glanced down to her saber, her own smile fading just slightly, "Is that why you did the thing in your TIE fighter yesterday?"

"What thing?" Luke was instantly, visibly uncomfortable, his Coruscanti accent returning as all his shields slammed into place.

"What- d'you think I haven't noticed?" she glanced up, trying to keep her tone at once light and sincere. "Every so often you go completely off the deep and do something outrageously stupid. Like that firefight on Tanaab. And when you were flying down to the Palace yesterday. You just... flip out."

"Thanks." Luke said dryly.

"I'm serious-" she maintained, an earnest tone coming through in her voice; no side, no pretence- just genuine, upfront concern. "Why do you do that?"

"I just..." he shrugged uneasily, caught offguard by the undisguised gravity in her voice, that perfect accent falling away again in response, "I guess I'm... giving Fate a chance."

Mara frowned, uncertain at the explanation, though she knew he was telling the truth. "What does that mean?"

He sighed, eyes to the ground, "Just... giving it a free shot, I guess. If I'm not... meant to be here, doing what I'm doing - if I'm wrong - then... that's Fate's chance to set it right."

"So you're... giving Fate a free shot at you?" Mara asked doubtfully.

What was going on in his head that he would do that?

A few months before the Assassination attempt, in a running firefight between the 701st and local militia on Neimodia, he'd made Mara's heart rise into her mouth as he walked to the front line and out from cover over to a wall panel which closed down the far doors and so rendered the militia trapped within a storage compound. Just walked out - not crouched or run, not lifted a hand in self-defence - just walked out, as if he were taking a quiet stroll.

And a few months before that on Ord Mirit, when a Twi-Lek had stepped out from the crowd and taken two shots at him - two shots from a heavy handgun at close range - he'd just stood there and let her. Just watched her step from the crowd- had watched her before that, Mara knew, knowing her intent, because by the time she pushed forward he'd already stopped and turned face on to her, head tilted to one side just... waiting.

She'd been wrestled to the ground and disarmed of course, Mara and Reece stepping in, Reece to place himself forward of Skywalker as Mara tried to yank him back, but he'd twisted easily free without even seeming to notice. He'd just kept his eyes on the Twi-Lek as they'd bundled her up and into a troop transport, stormtroopers closing in about him to obscure his view, though in truth it was pretty much over by then. The danger had passed and, unsettling as it was, Mara realised that even knowing it was coming he'd done nothing to prevent it or change its outcome.

What could possibly be going on in his head that he allowed - even sought out - these insane moments of risk? What did he believe he was doing that was so reprehensible that the only way to appease his own conscience was to allow 'Fate' its chance at redress?

He remained as ever a puzzle within a mystery within an enigma to Mara, and the more she tried to fathom him, the less she realised she knew. But the more it drew her in, that distant whispering presence at the edge of her consciousness as addictive as ever, pushing all other considerations aside in her fascination.

Did he feel the same? Because despite his recent unprecedented easing of the composed reserve which had always maintained a polite distance between them, she had no idea - none at all.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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.

Luke stood again in the huge, gilded ante-room which connected to his Master's Private Audience Chamber, staring out through the massed banks of tall windows to the distant Capital, his mind focused on the delicate negotiations which he was about to initiate.

He had remained in the Palace for almost a week now, keeping to himself, trying to maintain a low profile in his quarters aside from his daily trips to the Practice Halls and attending Court when commanded to do so by the Emperor, remaining always just within the bounds of respectful behaviour without involving himself further.

The Emperor had of course noted this, but so far had elected to hold his silence, choosing instead to charge his Jedi with a thousand petty assignments in and around the Palace, forcing him to interact with various Courtiers and sycophants and attendants, all of which Luke had completed without comment.

Lord Vader had been recalled to Coruscant, which meant that at least Luke had managed to delay having to pass the information on by recommending that communicating such sensitive information over even secure channels was inadvisable, and based on his present schedule, Lord Vader would have time to be briefed in person on Coruscant before setting out to Bothawuii. On these terms, the Emperor had permitted Luke to continue making preparations for the strike, allowing the illusion that he may yet have some involvement even though Luke knew that Palpatine was simply waiting for the perfect moment to snatch it from his grasp again.

It was the kind of petty battle of wills which Luke tired of very quickly yet his Master seemed to thrive on, leaving Luke feeling frustrated and trapped, knowing that Palpatine was simply playing his games with no intention of ever letting his precious Jedi out of the Core Systems, forcing Luke into the kind of underhand, circuitous schemes that he so detested in others.

Learning his craft, no matter how unwillingly.

Because now he was waiting to see his Master again, intending to ask one last time for permission to lead the task force. But he had something new to throw into the pot, one last lure; his most persuasive yet.

The ripple had been subtle as a whisper, a gentle sigh cast to the ether and let loose. The final breath of a thankless life.

But Luke had sensed it, some distant, twisted connection to his old Master remaining despite the distance, both physical and spiritual, which separated them now. Sat cross-legged in the silence of meditation on the ebonised wood of the cavernous Practice Hall floor, he had stilled in rapt, focused attention, his lightsaber laid before him, sweat from the hours-long training session cold against still-heated skin, studying the subtle ripples of cause and effect within the Force.

His ability to meditate following the exertion of duelling exercises was incredibly heightened by the intense concentration required to master his art. If nothing else, the long years he had spent here beneath Palpatine's demanding, uncompromising scrutiny had presented him the reason to develop a precise, powerful attunement to the Force, partly because he learned from and desired to improve upon the formidable, flawless example set by his self-assured Master and partly as vital defence before this most unforgiving of critics.

Was it Darkness that he touched now? Was he lost, that he could call this raw, dynamic power so decisively and fluidly to him, and if so, then why could he dismiss it with equal effortless ease?

Because he could step beyond it, could reach out with precise, delicate focus to slide between the hair's-breadth chink, the brink which separated shadows from darkness, to connect with a unique, distinctive power of such incredible, flawless harmony that with it he could almost feel the galaxy turning, sensing the infinitesimal changes in currents and eddies which marked any event of relevance, tracing their effect spreading out into the void, complex patterns of reality and potential overlaying and rebounding...

And it was here that he sensed the shift, frail and insubstantial, gone in an instant.

It was strangely reassuring that the passing of a single life, even one as significant as this, caused barely a ripple on the surface of that complex order. Humbling to realise how utterly inconsequential the lives of even the most influential of beings were in the greater scheme of things, the galaxy rolling on heedless of their struggles, failures and accomplishments both.

Still, he felt a certain sadness... regret even, that events had unfolded this way. The last thing he had said to his old Master was that he would return. Now that option was spent- though perhaps it had been long before today.

Luke opened his eyes and stared at the burnished black floor, allowing a moment of silence out of respect if no greater sentiment; he was, after all, probably the only being in the galaxy who had a close enough connection with Master Yoda to have sensed his passing.

The moment stilled, expectant...

The only being with a close enough connection...

Now, finally did the wave of effect impact against his receptive perceptions-

He rose quickly, heading for the door, plans and tactics whirling through his mind. He had an audience with his present Master to arrange - and Master Yoda was the subject.

.

Ushered in by Mas Amedda, Luke walked quickly the length of the Private Audience Chamber, working hard to conceal his anticipation and intent. It was a gamble, he knew, but one he was willing to take - at this point, with time running out before Mon Mothma's meticulously-induced trip to Bothawuii, a calculated risk was a reasonable one.

Chances were that his past close association to Master Yoda had afforded Luke the connection to sense what Palpatine had not; he had, after all, been unaware of the old Jedi Master's continued existence before Luke had exposed him.

Which meant that for once, Luke held the upper hand; knowledge was power, his Master had drummed that into his head time and again. Well now he had something that Palpatine wanted - had always wanted - but until now, Luke had been unwilling to relinquish.

Now, if he played his hand well, Luke had a chance at what he wanted- what he needed in order to move forward.

.

Palpatine watched his Jedi walk smoothly the length of the chamber, new purpose in his step. One week after being denied permission to go after Mothma, his Jedi had not been so impolitic as to mention his objective again yet, but Palpatine had been waiting for his next move. Tenacious as he was, the boy didn't give up on anything so easily, particularly something of this much importance to him, so the Emperor had been curious as to his Jedi's next strategy.

He remained furious that Skywalker had interacted with the Rebellion, no matter how remotely, in order to secure his objective, and no matter how much Skywalker maintained that luring Mon Mothma out of hiding was his only objective, there was a greater issue at stake here, one that seemed not to have occurred to the boy as yet.

Whether he believed Skywalker or not was immaterial- the fact remained that his Jedi had been able to conceal enough information from Palpatine to be able to carry out this complete operation, probably over a protracted period whilst he was in the Palace recovering from the attack, without once revealing any aspect of it to Palpatine, either physically or mentally.

Which brought up the disturbing realisation that the boy could now lie to him very effectively-

What else was Skywalker hiding?

He dropped to one knee before Palpatine now, head lowered, long, dark hair still wet from the 'fresher following the extended lightsaber practice which he always hid behind when incarcerated here in the Palace, falling back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall as a method of remaining removed from Court and the company of the unworthy, the power-hungry, the Courtiers and the sycophants which populated any center of true authority.

The boy hated them all, Palpatine knew, though he himself rather enjoyed their company; it remained a constant fascination how low sentient beings would stoop to realise their own greedy ambitions. A private entertainment to push until he found each one's breaking point.... and then to coax them that little bit further.

True power lay not in the possession of planets and systems, but in the complete control of those who lived their lives within his influence. To own one soul - to truly command it - was worth a system of planets, more addictive than any dry and distant census of populace and assets.

The boy had yet to realise that... but he was learning; Palpatine hadn't failed to notice the changing dynamics of his relationship with his 'watcher', Mara Jade. In hindsight, she had presumably become an impediment when he had begun his operation to snare Mothma, and unable to remove her without drawing attention to the fact, he'd begun a far subtler game.

Whatever it was that had brought him to his Master today, it was significant. Mas Amedda had received a short visit from Skywalker less than an hour earlier and had promptly cancelled and rearranged long-standing appointments planned for that morning, entering when Palpatine's previous meeting was finished to inform the Emperor of the 'essential' schedule changes, completely committed to providing The Heir with immediate access.

It was rare indeed that the boy used the Force to compel his requirements on Palpatine's personal staff, not least because he knew that his Master disapproved- as point of principle rather than any more benevolent consideration. Still, it amused him that his fallen Jedi had done this now- and to Amedda, enforcing his will so adeptly and so completely that the Chancellor still had no idea that he'd been manipulated.

"What do you have to say, that cannot wait?" Palpatine asked the kneeling man, his tone indulgent rather than inpatient in light of his Wolf's tenacious, resolute manoeuvring.

Luke kept his head down, eyes low, forcing his breathing to a slow, regular rhythm.

Last chance; make it count.

He knew that his Master preferred to keep him on a short leash, keep him in the Palace, keep him close at hand- and he knew why. But he also knew how much it would mean to Palpatine to see the final fulfilment of his precious prophesy, the vision he had seen only days after they had first faced off against each-other; that the idealistic, naïve boy who had so adamantly refused to give up Master Yoda's location would one day hand it over him willingly.

Palpatine would see this as the ultimate confirmation of his control of Luke. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps Luke's readiness to use Master Yoda's death for his own ends meant that Palpatine was right - or possibly his willingness to lie so guiltlessly to the Emperor and manipulate him so readily was proof that Palpatine would never truly own his precious Jedi as he wanted. Luke didn't know, and he'd long since stopped looking for answers.

They were seldom what one desired.

Now, all that he knew was that he finally had the ammunition to force his Master's hand- so the words Luke spoke aloud were as much a surprise to himself as they probably were to the Emperor. "The completion of the SSD Invincible is back on schedule, Master. It will be released from the Bilbringi shipyards in five month's time en route to Coruscant for its official launch."

"I see." Palpatine acknowledged neutrally, continuing to stare at his Jedi. They both knew that this wasn't what he had come to say.

Luke remained in genuflexion on the cold marble floor before the dais, a deep reluctance beginning to creep into his thoughts. Could he do this? Use Master Yoda's death as a ploy to help bring down the leader of a Rebellion which the old Jedi Master had probably helped instigate.

He held silent, eyes down, uneasy qualms tying a knot in his stomach as old memories pulled old principles to the fore...

"Something troubles you." His Master prompted at last, curiosity giving his words an uncharacteristically compassionate tone.

Luke remained still, remained silent, torn between present needs and past loyalties...

Palpatine watched, fascinated, as the boy remained statue-still, jaw clamped against whatever he had come intending to say. What could it be that bit into him like this, leaving him visibly shaken in the presence of the one man before whom he never allowed any show of weakness?

"Rise, my friend." Palpatine said at last, wishing to coax the boy on, fascinated now. "Rise and walk with me."

His fallen Jedi stood and set mechanically forward beside his Master, still lost in this unspoken struggle, caught behind some deep-rooted barrier which left him bound and distracted, unable to proceed. Palpatine walked casually out onto the wide terrace, the late summer sun beating inexorably down on pale marble flags. He disliked intensely the burning heat of Coruscant's summer, but he knew that such things set the boy at ease so was willing to withstand it, such was his curiosity.

He eventually stopped to rest pale, gaunt hands on the intricately-carved terrazzo balustrade, looking absently over the Capital- it held no interest for him; he already owned it completely. That which he desired to command was stood in subdued confusion beside him, eyes to the ground, adrift in his own thoughts, oblivious to the breathtaking view laid out before him.

"What has the power to leave my wolf at such an impasse?" Palpatine invited benevolently, grating voice tempered to wheedling tones.

The boy remained silent, shaking his head just slightly, plagued to distraction.

Did he know how vulnerable he left himself by clinging to these broken fragments of forfeit morals? Looking into the boys face now, Palpatine could see that he did; could sense how much this grated, how desperate he was to shed these final, tattered ties. What held him to so irresolute-a silence then?

Enthralled, Palpatine reached out into the Force, ochre-flecked eyes half-closed in concentration, stretching out a trembling hand to his Jedi's cheek without touching it.

"You are lost, child." He said in empathy, hoping to coax him on, "These are old doubts, long since conquered. Why do they plague you now?"

But his Jedi remained silent so Palpatine stepped back, knowing that if he pushed too hard, the boy would inevitably back off further. Even now, his Jedi resisted every step of the way- just more subtly... opposed his own decisions as much as his Masters, it sometimes seemed.

The Emperor turned again to look over the Capital, though his attention remained centred on the struggle taking place behind the boy's tense, distant expression. Without turning Palpatine spoke again, his voice quiet and calm as if making a casual observation, though his words were anything but.

"How easily your resolve crumbles, my friend. Did I teach you nothing? Are you so weak that you would surrender years of struggle and sacrifice and accomplishments before a moment's jaded conscience - do all of your aspirations and ambitions mean so little?" The Sith Master turned just slightly to deliver his last, "Anything of worth comes at a price, you know that - the first thing that one must be prepared to sacrifice to any true goal is oneself."

The boy remained silent for long seconds then, as if finally realising his Master's words, he stepped back and brought his head up, mismatched eyes the intense blue of the summer sky, the dark twist in his right eye startling in its contrast.

He reeled about and walked quickly from the wide terrace without a word.

Palpatine gave two heartbeats before turning to follow, but such was his Jedi's desperation to leave that by the time the Emperor had entered the cool darkness of the cavernous, opulent hall, the boy had already reached the tall double-doors at the far side-

Luke walked quickly from the balcony and back through the overbearing, ostentatious opulence of the cavernous Audience Chamber, so that he was almost to its exit before he sensed his Master enter the shadowy gloom behind him.

Palpatine did not speak, but simply watched his Jedi leave... and even that held the power to stop Luke in his tracks. Or perhaps it was something within himself because he stood, breathing heavily, eyes on the doors before him, body tensed against the need to act.

But he didn't leave; remained still, struggling against conscience and demons. Silence lay leaden in the gloom of the massive, soulless room-

"Will you give me what I want?" Luke asked at last, eyes still on the doors before him, voice low and quiet.

"And what is that?"

Luke didn't turn; didn't deign to answer. It was Palpatine for once, who broke the silence, "I have made my decision."

"Reconsider."

"In light of what?"

Luke half-turned, pale eyes bright in the low light, "Master Yoda's location."

The Sith's yellow eyes widened as he took two quick steps forward-

And Luke knew that he had him. There would be posturing, details to be argued, ego to be placated... but it was all academic now. He would go - and he knew it.

Palpatine walked slowly to the throne without speaking and Luke turned to face him, waiting for the first volley.

"I do not barter permission and favours, Jedi." The Emperor opened.

Luke bit down his sarcasm at the bare-faced lie. Irrelevant of what was said from now on, he had nothing to prove anymore - he'd won and he knew it. "This is neither, Master. Only acknowledgement of services rendered. You said it yourself- three years of loyalty and obedience."

"I used neither of those words - nor am I in the habit of doing so when it comes to my feral Jedi. You are as much a liability as an advantage."

Luke took a step forward, "You want loyalty? Then let me show it to you - let me hunt down your enemies. Give me this opportunity to prove myself."

Palpatine remained silent, seemingly unmoved, but Luke knew a sabacc-face when he was looking at one. Again he stepped forward.

"I'm worth nothing to you unless you use me. Give me this and in return I'll gift you the leader of the Rebellion and last of the Jedi."

He looked down as he spoke his next, unsure whether he was overstepping the bounds, but knowing his Master's dry humour, aware that he often responded well to outrageous audacity on the part of his advocate - and a little bare-faced flattery. "I was once told by a wise man that anything of worth comes at a price."

He looked up to the Emperor, wary-

Palpatine's yellow-flecked eyes narrowed and Luke held that gaze with equal intensity...... then the Sith Master's thin, dry lips pulled back over spoiled teeth in a cackle of wry amusement.

"Very well- I'll pay your price. You have my consent, Jedi... on this occasion only. Don't disappoint me."

Which was of course, exactly what would happen when Palpatine sent his stormtroopers to Degobah. Luke bowed low, to hide the triumph on his face, "I would never dare, Master."

Palpatine raised heavy brows as he leered a broken-toothed grin, "Yet you would dare anything else, it seems."

"I have learned at my Master's feet."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed, but in amusement, aware that he was being lionized but relishing it nonetheless. "And did this wise Master also teach you to deliver on your promises?"

Luke met the old man's eyes and stood straight, shoulders relaxing, loosing any lingering reluctance with a long, steady breath, "..... Degobah. In the Outer Rim, near the Rimma Trade Route."

It was, in the last, surprisingly easy to say out loud. Had he lost so much? Or was he finally finding his resolve?

"And where exactly on... Degobah should I be looking?"

"There are three continents. The smallest is on the equator, covered with rain forests. To its Eastern side there are three major tributaries, all visible from high orbit. I landed between the second and the third, in heavily-forested swampland."

The Emperor raised his eyebrows, "Co-ordinates?"

"No. The planet has wave-scattering attributes which interfere with instrumentation from low orbit down, which is probably why it's never been settled. I left three visual markers at high-canopy level which will be visible at nightfall if they're still operational."

Palpatine nodded, satisfied, and Luke turned to leave.

He was almost to the tall double-doors before his Master spoke out again.

"I had thought to send you to deal with Master Yoda personally." It was a test, Luke knew, and hardly a subtle one. But he played the game, pausing to half-turn back.

"I'll do as you command. If you wish me to go, then..." he trailed off in invitation, sensing the carefully-concealed tendrils of the Force reaching out to him as his Master sought to gauge his response. But there was nothing to hide, not in this; he had no qualms about returning to his old Master's hiding place - not anymore. Whether it was he or Vader who attended to this was immaterial, and he allowed his Master to sense that. But that alone.

Palpatine hesitated for long moments, head to one side, then; "No- no I will send Lord Vader. He has an older score to settle."

"I'm sure he'll prevail." Luke said easily, unruffled by his own barefaced lies, tempering them with a hidden truth for his own amusement. "Master Yoda is hardly in his prime."

.

.

The Emperor's Wolf walked briskly across floors and levels to the cavernous grandeur of the Crossways, the massive, cathedral-ceiling space which linked the four Habitation Towers at their bases, heading for the Campaign rooms in the North Tower. He'd withheld much of the finer details from the plans he had been forming with the Intel Chiefs, both his Master's and his own, because one way or another he'd intended to go to Bothawuii. Now was the time to fill in the blanks and look for flaws.

He and his ever-present scarlet shadow of Royal Guards turned many heads as he traversed the crowded space, Luke oblivious to the fascinated glances and the deferential bows of the many staff here, their whispered voices echoing through the vaulted excess of the vast, ten-storey space.

Slowly, awareness of their massed presence filtered in through the Force- not because he was the centre of attention for so many minds, which he had learned to become accustomed to, but because of the undercurrent of disquiet and nervous apprehension which colored those thoughts at the sight of the Sith who walked among them.

He slowed, looking into the faces of people, none of whom would meet his eye. Eventually he stopped and just stood, gazing about him from face to face, an island in the widening flow of people about him, no-one wishing to come too close.

What were they afraid of - what did they see when they looked at him?

Two women passed, Courtiers, from their richly-embroidered clothes, willing to risk eye-contact, holding his gaze as they passed by, glancing back flirtatiously. Luke watched them, his expression changing not a whit at their apparent adoration. He knew what they saw- power, status, wealth. Nothing more.

For that they'd sell everything.

He frowned as he turned away, starting slowly forward again; was he so very different? What had he sold, to gain what he needed today.

He passed into the North Tower, his reply to Master Yoda's challenge when he had first arrived on Degobah searching for a teacher ringing in his ears;

'Will he finish what he begins?'

'I won't fail you.' He had promised in return.

Could the end justify the means...

Or was he lost in Darkness?

Hard experience had taught him that life was seldom as black and white as the pious sophistries his old Master had spouted among the lies he had weaved. How had the old Jedi expected one man to bring down an Empire alone - a task which his practised veteran mentor was clearly incapable of himself or he would have done so long ago. And yet he still expected Luke to be willingly bound to outmoded tenets which had so clearly failed anyway, even when the Jedi had stood at the prime of their power.

He quickened his pace now, his jaw set in frustration against the self-reproach which he could feel gnawing at the corners of his conscience.

Did he regret giving up the dead Jedi Masters last resting place?

Yes... and no.

He may have failed his old Master, but then Master Yoda had failed him too; had allowed him to face his enemy with a glaring, profound weakness. One so easily remedied - except that it would have broken Yoda's control of his new Jedi... interfered with his own goals.

How did that make the old Jedi Master any better than Luke?

Yes, he had failed Yoda, but his teacher had failed him first. He should have turned the mirror on himself when he was preaching of Darkness and Destiny.

Did that excuse Luke's actions? No. But he wouldn't be damned by one who was, to his mind, no better than himself. And anyway, the game wasn't over until all the cards were played- if he was to be damned, it should be then.

He hadn't quite failed the old Jedi Master yet.

.

.

.

Vader released the airtight seals on the meditation chamber in his private quarters at the Palace. It was well after midnight, but he had sensed his son's approach, subtle as it was. He doubted anybody else had.

He stood and walked from the otherwise empty room, divorced from it by the constraints of his life-support suit. In the chamber's oxygen-rich environment, he could at least remove his helmet - feel the air on his face again - but that was lost to him now in the real world, where his scarred lungs were too damaged to sustain him.

He could have remained in his chamber, spoken to Luke from there, but he didn't wish his son to see the automated, mechanical systems which kept him alive. Didn't wish him to know how little of the man that was his father was left. So instead he waited in the near-darkness of a receiving room, where there was at least some semblance of a normal life on show for the benefit of those few who came here. Vader himself never used the room and had chosen nothing in it save for the large canvas hanging on one wall; a view of the Varykino Lakes, in the mountains of Naboo.

His son entered the room behind him and Vader tore his gaze away from the painting and turned about.

"Good evening." he said simply - and instantly chided his own inhibitions.

The boy nodded in reply, "This room is safe?"

It was the same thing that they always asked, one of the other, whenever they met; was the room safe to talk in- was it bugged. That was the limits of his association with his own son; stolen moments, watchful for betrayal or discovery.

"This room is safe." He replied simply with a short nod, and they both stood in silence for long moments. Finally his son looked away, uneasy, "I've come to take my leave of you. The Peerless heads out tomorrow for Bothawuii."

"For Mothma." Vader replied levelly, bringing his sons' eyes up in surprise. "The Emperor told me. I think he meant it to be a contention between us - that I would believe the task should have gone to me." He shook his head against the uneasy guilt in Luke's eyes, "He was wrong. This has been your campaign and your strategy. You should finish what you have begun."

Luke glanced away, his father's words reminding him again of Master Yoda, glancing into the ether to ask of Kenobi, 'Will he finish what he begins?'

Vader sensed the burst of self-reproach as his son looked away and wondered at it. "She would have been proud of you." He said obliquely.

Luke glanced up, frowning. "Who?"

"Your mother. She had the highest standards of anyone I ever knew, for herself and for those around her. She would have been proud of you."

Luke looked away, deeply uncomfortable, "I very much doubt it."

They remained silent for a long time, though it was no longer awkward, just... uncertain, each wishing to continue, but neither knowing how.

"What was she like?" Luke uttered at last, unable to look at his father as he did so.

It seemed to Vader an eternity since he had first taken the holo-pic of Padmé to Luke aboard the Executor. Now, looking back, he couldn't believe he had thought that Luke would ever have conceded so much so easily as to have taken the projector - in his place, Anakin Skywalker would have done exactly the same as Luke Skywalker had.

Now, Vader knew, this question meant so much more than simply a desire to know his mother - because he wanted to know from his father. Wanted to know the woman that his father had known.

"She was... very beautiful. True beauty - it shone from within her."

"How long did you know her?" Luke shied away from asking the one question he truly wanted to ask; did you ever love her?

"Since I was a boy- nine years old. Before I was even a Padawan."

His son considered, a slight frown marking his youthful face, scarred now by Mothma's hand. In truth, Vader wanted very much to go after her himself- longed to with a biting fury. But this was far more equitable; for his son to deal with this himself- for him to want to. For the Emperor to trust him to. Vader still had no idea what coercion the boy could have used to change their Master's mind; he had been so adamant for so long that Luke should remain always close to Coruscant, and Vader could hardly blame him - in Palpatine's place, he would have placed the same limits.

"She was from Tatooine?" Luke asked, mismatched eyes to his father.

"No - she was from Naboo." He wanted to tell his son everything - that his mother had been a Senator; a Queen - but too much too fast would only overwhelm him... and in some selfish way, he still wanted to hold onto this power he had over the boy; the lure to bring him back again.

"Then...?" Luke prompted, fascinated.

"Padmé came to Tatooine when her starship was damaged, looking for parts. That was how we first met." Vader fell silent, but his son waited expectantly, so eventually he offered more, "I... became a Padawan soon after that, coming to Coruscant. We did not meet for many years, but I always remembered her."

"You were a Jedi... when you met her again?" Which meant he shouldn't have been with her, Luke knew. So much information, so quickly- this was as much an education of who his father was as his mother.

"Your mother had no part in my... decisions." Vader said evenly, and Luke could sense the defence in his words. That he wished to protect her was... touching. "She would have held me to the Jedi's misguided beliefs and I would have eventually fallen with all those around me, defending a flawed cause."

Luke was past trying to challenge his fathers warped views; they were too deeply entrenched and now was not the time; even he had cited them only in defence of...

"Her name was... Padmé?"

"Padmé Amidala. That was her given name." Vader chose not to give her family name yet, which was still easily traceable in Imperial archives. But to say even this out loud made something wrench deep within him despite the years- another wound that never healed.

To listen to his father speak with such hesitant regret of his mother was intensely... humanising. At once disturbing and elating, breaking down every assumption Luke had believed, holding him to fascinated silence as his father continued.

"She was intelligent and strong-willed. Passionate in her beliefs; she would not be dictated to - in that you are very much alike."

Luke hung his head, deep regret in his distant, wistful expression. "I wish..." he stopped, as much out of consideration for his father as chiding himself- there was no use in longing; the past could not be changed.

Vader paused, his own remorse knotting his stomach- that he had taken her not only from himself, but from his son. Nothing he did or said now could ever....

He lifted his head, "Wait."

Luke looked after his father as he strode quickly from the room, frowning his curiosity.

When Vader returned a few minutes later, it was to find his son stood before the painting, staring into it, fascinated. Did he know? Could he pick up some trace in the Force of the endless hours Vader had spent stood in that very spot, staring with desolate melancholy.

He turned as his father entered the room and for a split-second Vader faltered - he had so little that had been hers...

But that was why he should give it to his son. To their son.

He held out his closed fist and Luke reached out his open palm, uncertain. Dropping it from his hand, giving it voluntarily to another, was strangely freeing. Not at all difficult, when it came to it - because of the one he gave it to.

Luke glanced down as something fell into his palm, small and cool and surprisingly heavy.

He pulled his hand back to stare at the ring. It was a large, square, pale blue stone set in dark, mirror-polished perennium.

"It was your mothers." Vader said, though Luke had known. "I brought her the stone from Jabiim. She had it made into a ring and wore it on... the first finger of her right hand."

Jabiim- painful memories twisted up about Vader's thoughts... memories of Obi-Wan- of the shock in the eyes of the man whose windpipe he had crushed using the Force. He blinked quickly, willing the memories away again; they had no place here. "She..."

He didn't say it- couldn't. He had brought her the uncut, worthless stone simply because he had seen it and thought of her in that moment - known that she would like it. She had been so enchanted- had held it up to his face and claimed it was the same pale blue as his eyes, and had it cut and set into precious perennium- black, polished perennium, dark as the robes he wore, she'd teased.

She had worn it always, as a ring on her first finger, lamenting having to remove it when... when her pregnancy made her hands swell. He'd stolen it from her jewellery box, intending to have the ring resized so that she could wear it again. But duties had pulled him away and he never seemed to have the time and suddenly...

Suddenly she was gone, and everything had changed. Except the ring, whose stone was still the colour of his eyes, set in polished black... like the armour he now wore.

It had been a long time before he could look at the ring, so completely did it remind him of her.

And yet, it had eventually become one of his most treasured possessions.

And now he gave it to his son- because he wanted the boy to have something which was hers. Some contact, however distant, with the mother he would never know... because of Vader. Because of Anakin. Because of Obi-Wan.

Luke remained silent, staring at the ring in his hand for a long time. When he finally lifted his pale blue eyes to his father, Vader knew that his son had sensed the desperate play of wretched emotions which plagued him.

"I can't take this." He said at last, voice quiet and certain, holding his open hand out.

"You should have something which was hers." Vader said resolutely, making no move.

"Not this. I know what it must..."

"Take it. She would want you to have it."

Luke studied his father, and Vader knew that his mask hid nothing- not from his son. The boy looked again to the ring and finally tried it on his index finger, where Vader had said that his mother had worn it- it didn't pass the first joint, and Vader could hear the gentle amusement in his sons voice as he pulled it free, "It's tiny. She must have been..." he said no more but Vader remembered again how delicate she was, how graceful. How fragile.

Luke tried the ring on each finger; it was just large enough to fit his little finger and he left it there, unable to take his eyes from it. He was silent for a long time, searching to find the words which were equal to this priceless gift. Finally he said the honest, uncomplicated truth. "It's... thank you- it's an incomparable gift. I'll take good care of it, I promise."

Vader took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable, voice gruff and dismissive, "It's nothing- a worthless trinket. Do as you wish with it."

"Then I'll treasure it." His son said genuinely, eyes still on the ring. He glanced up suddenly, realising something; "You have blue eyes!"

"Yes." Vader replied awkwardly.

His son shrugged, looking back down to the ring. "I had always thought that they were brown for some reason. I'd thought mine were from my mother."

"Your mother had brown eyes, like heartwood; and long, auburn hair." It occurred to Vader only now that he had not mentioned out loud that Padmé had said the stone was the color of his eyes - could the boy read his thoughts so completely? Had this been a momentary slip on Luke's part which revealed the extent of his ability?

"...What happened?" The deep loss of a child left alone and abandoned shone out through those words and took Vader's thoughts completely, leaving him speechless with guilt.

But his son only waited patiently, so that eventually Vader had to speak, though he could not find the courage to face his son. "I... cannot tell you."

Luke's gaze fell to the floor, regret and remorse twisting through his sense at the realisation of what his father was saying. Yet he made no accusation, no move to condemn or rebuke. Perhaps he sensed Vader's own grief; his burning, knifing shame.

Silence drew out again, marked by the deep, rasping breaths of Vader's suit, Luke bringing his eyes back to his father only slowly.

"Why?" he asked at last, the only question left to him, Vader supposed. But even now there was no censure in his quiet voice, only the desire to know.

Vader had wished a thousand times for the opportunity to explain his actions - to defend them before the only one who mattered, when he was finally prepared to listen. Yet now, before those blue eyes so very much like his own, words failed him and he could only shake his head, shame holding him to silence.

"I'm sorry..." his son murmured at last, eyes turning down, though Vader did not know whether it was regret that he had asked, or at his father's unforgivable actions.

Vader took another step back, trying to deny the emotions which threatened to overwhelm him now. "You... should go."

His son looked up at that, and Vader found the excuse to support his words, "You've been here too long already; the Emperor will know."

It didn't fool the boy - not for a second - but he looked away and stepped back, prepared to give his father the space he needed. "Of course. Will you be here when I return?"

"I would imagine." Vader replied, "The capture of Mon Mothma will be a major event. The Emperor will want everyone in attendance when he receives his new toy."

The boy looked away, uneasy again, face and sense haunted by tearing uncertainties.

"You are doing the right thing." Vader assured.

"No, I'm doing the wrong thing." His son replied quietly, looking to his mothers' ring, "But I believe it's necessary."

He turned to depart, and Vader blurted out the words, unwilling to allow this to end on such a bleak note, "I loved her - very much."

The words stopped Luke in his tracks, shaking him to the core, twisting his stomach and burning deep in his chest, mind buzzing in shock at the revelation. Darkness did not love. The word was anathema- unthinkable; impossible.

"What am I to do with that?" he asked at last without turning .

"Learn from it." Vader said bleakly, bringing Luke's gaze back to him. "We are...solitary creatures by necessity. We can only destroy that which we value."

Luke remained silent, so Vader pressed, "You cannot be close to another- you cannot allow another to be close to you." It had been a devastating, irretrievable mistake and Vader wished to spare his son the misery of regrets which had plagued his own life for as long as he could remember. "Failure is inevitable and the consequences will spiral from your control."

Luke glanced away uneasily, wilfully refusing to understand, setting forward again only to pause at the threshold of the door, unable to leave such a damning prediction hanging over his head.

"I am not you." He murmured, as much to himself as his father.

Then, not wishing to leave under the shadow of discord as he so often had in the past, he offered, "Goodnight, father." He glanced again to the ring, "And thank-you."

Vader remained still as his son left the room, all his frustrations dissipated by that one short sentence- "Goodnight, father. Thank-you."

It was the first time that his son had ever said those words - and meant them. Everything else paled by comparison.