In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 2

In Shadows and Darkness

.

.

.

.

"It is shadows whose edge define the light

At the brink of the dawn and the darkness."

Extract from The Son of Suns Prophesy,(Jedi Master Egorin Dovas translation; 3/ 14,159 -minus.)

Engraved into the Sunburst Throne (The Seat of Prophesy) circa 23,711 -minus.

.

.

.

.

CHAPTER ONE

.

.

.

... ... ...

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

Leia woke in the dead of night, the vaguest of ghostly shapes defining the twisted bulk of massive trees crowded in about her, stretching far above the small clearing where she stood, twisted branches blocking out the light of distant stars. When she looked down

again, Mon Mothma was stood before her, so close Leia could have reached out and taken her hands...

Dry, dead leaves rustled in the darkness close by and she knew... she knew what prowled in the night.

"Don't look." She whispered urgently to Mon, her words turning to mist in the frigid air, "Don't look it in the eye. If you don't look it won't attack."

They remained still, Leia's eyes locked on Mon's as it slipped silently across the clearing, the wiry sable of its fur brushing against her leg so close

did it stalk about them, clinging to Leia like a shadow. And yet... afraid as she was she knew- she knew that if she didn't look, it wouldn't attack.

A dry branch cracked like bone and Mon's gaze flickered...

"Don't look!" Leia whispered, more urgently now.

But Mon glanced down, eyes widening- and the growl that it loosed from the back of its throat was wild and feral, grating up Leia's spine and setting hairs on

end, her breath catching in her throat.

It lunged past her in a blur, too quick to follow, black against black in the shadows of the night, Leia's loose hair whipping forward with the violence of the

movement as she flinched...

And Mon was gone. In an instant- no struggle, no noise. She just... fell away into the dense shadows, though Leia knew what had taken her.

And Leia was left alone, the constant rustle of the wind dragging through the tall, twisted trees stealing away the sound of its presence as it

melted like a ghost into the night, a shadow in darkness, the sound of its howl sending an involuntary shiver up her spine, shocking her awake with a jolt...

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

... ... ...

To stare wide-eyed into the darkness of her sleeping quarters, Han stirring in his sleep momentarily before settling to silence.

.

.

Leia lay breathless in the darkness, slowly gathering her thoughts, reassuring herself that it was just a dream- just another dream. She rolled over, pulling the covers over her chilled skin, tired to the bone but unable now to drift back to sleep, knowing that it would be there if she did.

It was always there at the corners of her dreams; at the corners of her mind. Ever since Alderaan. Some... elemental link which bound them together, she and the black wolf, as deep and as compelling and as irresistible as the turning of the universe.

It would always be there, no matter what else happened. No matter what beliefs she held to and what fell away, whether she acknowledged it or denied it... it would remain forever a part of her.

It would always be there- like a shadow in darkness.

.

.

.

The Lambda-class shuttle glided silently through the void between the two Super-class Star Destroyers, the Honour Guard of twelve TIE's hardly necessary this close to the Core Worlds. As it flew, it slowly rotated on its axis to correct its path in relation to the SSD Peerless, which maintained a position at a twenty-degree roll to the SSD Executor.

Generally, it was standard practice for two military ships in close quarters to maintain a synchronous axis, the lesser ship rotating to match the higher ranking one. In this case, the two ships were both Flagships, one of the Core Fleet, the other of the Rim Fleet, each carrying their relative Fleet Commander-in-Chiefs, so that neither was prepared to give way to the other. It was a subtle little game, both Fleet Admirals unwilling to concede on behalf of their own CIC, neither so impolitic as to mention this out loud, and if the relative CIC's had noted the stubbornness, they had chosen not to mention it.

So Vader did not speak as the Peerless seemed to rotate in the black void of space before him, an optical illusion caused by correcting the pitch and yaw of the small Lambda-class shuttle he was on to match the looming bulk of the Destroyer, the distant, glowing orb of Duro tiny by comparison to the closing hulk of the massive Super Star Destroyer.

Nor did he remark when the Core Fleet's Commander in Chief was not present at the full Honour Reception of perfectly turned-out troops of the 701st who lined the landing bay even at short notice, since the attendance of the Core Fleet Admiral meant that official protocol had been strictly adhered to- in theory at least.

Admiral Joss bowed politely to Lord Vader rather than salute him, Vader's status in the Emperor's Household outranking even his position as Commander in Chief of the Rim Fleet. Joss had to turn quickly however, since Vader stalked past without acknowledgement, "Lord Vader. May I welcome you aboard on behalf of The Comman..."

"Where is he?" Vader growled, his bass voice reverberating through the cavernous hanger.

"The Commander is on the Bridge at present- perhaps you'd like to accompany me there?" As he said this, Admiral Joss was forced to practically run to keep pace with Vader, who had slowed his pace not a whit.

.

The turbolift door opened onto the bustling bridge, all eyes lifting momentarily as it did, the slightest susurration of unease at Vader's presence there testament to the fact that their own CIC was equally difficult to handle when the mood was on him. Vader walked forward without hesitation, betraying none of the agitation or anticipation he always felt when in the presence of the Core Fleet Commander, known everywhere only by his rank, never by his name.

Never his name- he had other names now, all carefully chosen by the Emperor and each with a purpose, either tactically or for his own amusement.

His feral Jedi, his wild Wolf, Commander of his Fleet, but never his own name- his real name.

So few knew it now, but in private, Vader made a point of referring to him by it. To remind him who he was, who Vader was- what they were to each-other. He knew how uncomfortable the boy was to hear it, and some needle of that pricked at Vader's own memories- of his own name, his own secrets, his own identity, long since abandoned in payment for the power Darkness offered. He didn't want that for the young Fleet Commander stood to the far end of the bridge, and more than most, he felt he had a vested interest, having been so instrumental in his rise to power. Vader was, he believed, very much entitled to make such decisions on the young man's behalf, despite the boy's resentment of this. Entitled to decide what should and should not be sacrificed for the greater goal. And he was willing to accede a great deal- to force the boy to do the same, regardless of his own desires or consent. Neither was particularly necessary in Vader's carefully-laid plans.

But there were some things he wouldn't sacrifice, and the boy's name - his identity, his sense of self, of independence - was one of them.

Everything that he had once wanted for himself Vader now intended for the boy; power, position... and Darkness would offer it- at a price. But when he achieved everything Vader planned for him - and so for Vader himself - then it would be in his name. In their name.

He wanted it for the individual; not for the Darkness which gave the power to take it. He wanted it for the man. For his son.

For Luke Skywalker.

He stood now before the wide bank of viewpanes speaking to his Generals, though he knew Vader had entered the Bridge; would have sensed when he boarded the Peerless, even without constant comm updates from his own carefully-recruited clique of loyal officers.

The ever-present Mara Jade turned to glance down the main walkway toward Vader, green eyes ablaze. Part bodyguard, part Aide, certainly the eyes and ears of Palpatine, she disliked Vader with a vengeance- but the feeling was mutual. Vader remained uneasy at her presence so close to his son; at Luke's apparent trust. Though his spies told him that this had its limits; Luke had learned to trust no-one in the past year as Commander of the Core Fleet, least of all those close to him. But like his Master the Emperor, he seemed a great proponent of the old adage to keep one's friends close- and one's enemies closer.

Vader glanced at her for only a second, his eyes drawn inexorably to his son. Oh, he was so much like Anakin now- slim and lithe, strong and straight. He dressed in black, hair wild and loose, long enough to fall into soft, unruly curls. So much like Anakin...

Absolutely in command here, on the bridge of his Destroyer, all activity centring around him. So very different from the callow, idealistic youth Vader had brought to the Emperor almost three years ago, which made it barely twenty-one years after Padmé's...

Vader broke the thought automatically, unwilling to allow his memories to follow that path, instead turning his attention to the man who watched him now with such wary animosity, as stubborn and as willful and as headstrong as Padmé had ever been.

Realisation of their son's existence after all this time had been one of the most momentous events in Vader's life. His decision to take the boy to Palpatine, forced by Luke's rebuff in Cloud City, had in retrospect probably been one of the most ill-considered, and he had spent the last three years trying to undo the damage done by the Emperor's involvement in the boy's conversion. To little effect in truth; Palpatine held his son so completely in his power now that nothing Vader said seemed to get through to the boy, his mind poisoned by his Master's contriving manipulations.

And Palpatine was hardly about to give and ground. The boy's power was incredible, and still developing. He had yet to find his limits, save for his own self-doubt, which Palpatine alternately fed and criticized, his command of Luke requiring its control but his fascination with the boy's power driving him to test its limits constantly. Why Luke had not already challenged his new Master remained a mystery to Vader; the boy's powers equalled Palpatine's now, and if Vader knew this then Luke must too... but something held him back. Something always held him back.

Sooner or later though, Palpatine would push the boy too far and he would turn on his Master with a vengeance. Could he take the Emperor down? Accomplish what Vader never had?

Absolutely. Vader had complete, unconditional faith in that fact- even if his son did not.

Was this pride? Was it possible to feel such for a son who called him father only to remind him of how far away the reality of their relationship really was? Because he still held aspirations for his son- the driving ambition to see him on the Emperor's throne one day. Was pride not part of that? He did not love - Darkness could not love. He had loved Padmé and she had loved him...once. But they had destroyed each-other... as he had destroyed everything of value in his life.

Even his son. He knew that- he wasn't blind.

He knew how completely he had betrayed Luke in handing him over to Palpatine, fully aware of what the Emperor would do in order to convert and control him; that he would break the boy to pieces physically and mentally in order to dominate and possess, to make that power his own. But he had given his son every chance to embrace the Darkness which would augment his emerging abilities, every chance to acknowledge and instigate his own destiny, and had been refused. What was left to Vader but to take him to the only man who could possibly accomplish what he could not - by force, if necessary. It had been... unexpectedly difficult- disturbing in its ruthless severity - an unforeseen complication.

Who would have thought that the boy would be so obstinate, so committed to those who had done nothing more noble than use him and lie to him. Palpatine had been forced to invest long, gruelling months in breaking the boy, finding it necessary to destroy him completely in order to build his new Sith. And during that process he had very deliberately severed any link between father and son, binding Luke to his new Master completely. Considering his appalling maltreatment, his relentless manipulation and harsh indoctrination by Palpatine, the boy should have been an empty shell, a willing slave, nothing left but diffident obedience.

But he had risen above it, like a phoenix from the flames. Even Darkness couldn't destroy him.

That was how powerful he was.

He was the only thing of value which Vader had ever created in his life.

And of that...he was proud.

.

His son turned, glancing up momentarily as Vader slowed to a halt before him. He towered over the boy, as he did over most humans, though Luke remained not in the least intimidated. Their saber duel two years earlier in the Imperial Palace had settled all scores and clarified only four months after his conversion just how much power Luke had already gleaned from his new status as a Sith. He had nothing left to prove, least of all to his father.

"Lord Vader." He nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

He never referred to his father as such in public, another of Palpatine's little manipulations, all references to Luke's identity having been removed from public records, replaced by hints and rumours and misdirections.

The boy didn't particularly care to correct them; he had long since abandoned his old life, though he seemed to Vader equally uninvolved with his new one. He went through the motions as was required, but very much like his father he remained pointedly uninvolved with Court and the machinations and power-plays of Palace life, avoiding them whenever possible in favour of his involvement with the Fleet.

Ever paranoid, Palpatine still contrived to keep his new Sith close at hand however, keeping him confined to the Palace on Coruscant for many long months after his conversion before finally granting him command of the Core Fleet. But even now, almost three years later, he was never allowed outside of the Core and Colony Systems which he commanded in the Emperor's name. And even here, Luke's interests lay not with the acquisition and dispensation of power, but in the complexities of management required to maintain and subjugate the massive diversity of planets and cultures in the densely-packed Core Systems, consciously losing himself in the minutia rather than stepping back to acknowledge the greater picture - both of his position within the Fleet and of his life.

"We need to speak." Vader said simply, never one to procrastinate, having never been in a position where such was necessary, considering his status.

Luke's pale blue eyes remained guarded as he studied his father for long moments, then the slightest of gestures tilted his head to the side as he acknowledged the request and turned, heading for his private ready-room to the right of the rear of the bridge. Vader followed, noting that Jade also fell into step.

Luke entered the large, grey, featureless office, walking to stand before the wide span of the desk there, turning to face Vader's looming form as Mara Jade slipped into the room behind them.

.

Luke had worn black today and in view of his visitor, was regretting it.

Despite the Emperor's preference for his inner elite, Luke generally chose to wear darkest blue, a half-shade away from black, but away nonetheless, the subtlest of independence expressed even here. The impeccable cut of his clothes remained almost but never quite a military uniform, a tiny sliver of white at the high stand-collar of his fitted, side-fastening jacket, the top three fasteners undone, giving a more casual air. At first glance they seemed such insignificant expressions of dissent given his position, but he held to them. Appearances were important here, and he had learned that in his Master's rigidly controlled world, the subtlest of divergences could cause incredible ripples. Elusive powerplays and political subterfuge and were not his forte - but he was learning.

"You have something to say which couldn't be spoken over the HoloNet?" he asked pointedly of his father now.

He tried hard to discourage any face-to-face meetings; everything he had to say to his father he'd said long ago, and it was he and not Vader who would have to answer to Palpatine when he found out they had met. Which he would - there were two of his Master's spies on the bridge; three in fact, if Luke included Lieutenant Wez Reece, who had long since swapped allegiance, though of course he still had to report most of Luke's dealings to the Emperor to avoid suspicion.

Vader didn't speak, only turned pointedly to Mara, who lifted her chin, unimpressed. She was one of the few who knew what Vader really was to him, Luke having consciously robbed his Master of whatever machinations he had in play long ago by choosing to tell her himself. Indirectly of course, the act appearing a momentary slip rather than a conscious defiance - he'd long since learned that lesson too. Now he turned immediately to Jade.

"Mara?" he invited simply, and she walked from the room with the slightest of bows, conspicuously choosing to acknowledge Luke before his father.

Luke waited until the door had closed before speaking again. "Well?" If his father was not in the habit of prevaricating, then Luke was well able to match him.

"This room is safe?" Vader asked.

"Of course."

"You have a new infiltrator in your command staff."

"You mean Ogo?" Luke prompted of the new Security Officer who had been assigned to the Peerless only two months earlier. Her record was impeachable of course, but records could be faked. Luke had done so himself many times now in order to place his own spies. Vader said nothing, but Luke sensed the slight fluctuation in the Force and was pleased that he'd been able to come back with her name. "Yes, she's good, but a little too... excessive in her sense of duty."

"Then why is she still here?" Vader referred to his son's habit, much like his own, of removing on principle unwanted spies placed by the Emperor in positions close to themselves in the most permanent way possible.

"She's useful to pass on information of my choice at present. When she outlives that usefulness..." Luke shrugged, unmoved.

Both men remained where they were for long moments, Luke knowing that this was not why his father had come here and prepared to wait him out, refusing to blink before that blank, glaring mask.

"You are playing a very dangerous game." Vader said at last.

Without seeming to move, Luke's stance turned from waiting to wary, "I'm always playing dangerous games. Which one are you referring to?"

"Using forged access codes to smuggle communiqués out of the Palace."

Luke's expression changed not a whit, but his mind was racing now; if Vader knew, then others may also know, and he needed to maintain that line of contact. He glanced down, considering, hoping to buy time or redirect his father. "And who would you have close enough to me to know that?"

"Irrelevant." Vader stated flatly, refusing to be drawn. "The important fact is that I do- and it will cease."

That brought Luke's eyes back up to his father, his innate stubbornness kicking in though it was, if not mastered, then at least tempered by the experiences of the last three years. "I don't think so." he said resolutely.

Every meeting with his father was a contest to some degree. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but he seldom backed down without a very good reason- it wasn't in his nature.

Nor was it in his father's. "Then you wish me to bring it to the Emperor's attention?"

Luke hesitated, pushing past the freezing burst of adrenaline at this ultimate threat, knowing that the punishment for such subversion would be extreme- but even before this he didn't yet concede, mind racing to pull the pieces together-

In truth it was unlikely that Vader would take this to the Emperor if he hadn't already done so; to do so now would require him to admit that he had approached Luke beforehand, which their ever-paranoid Master would consider a damning betrayal on Vader's part. Palpatine knew he was breaking every lore of the Sith by holding more than one advocate; history had illustrated time and again the dangers inherent in balancing the ambitions and power struggles which resulted, and the blood connection between Luke and his father made their cautious Master obsessively distrustful. More than anything else, Palpatine would tolerate no connection between father and son; he had made that very clear again and again, usually at Luke's expense. But this would be unmistakably his father's doing. It wouldn't change the fact that Luke had been smuggling illicit communiqués - wouldn't save him from Palpatine's wrath - but it would mean that he would take Vader down with him this time.

"Who are you passing the information to?" Vader demanded, interrupting Luke's thoughts.

So he didn't know everything; if he didn't know their recipient then likely he didn't know their content, which meant he hadn't cracked their code- possibly that he didn't even have the messages, only the second-hand knowledge that they were being sent.

"That's none of your business." Luke said simply , looking casually away.

"Everything that you do is my business." That was a step too far and Vader saw his son's hackles rise at it, his ice-blue eyes narrowing... then the brief burst of emotion was gone and the boy turned calmly away, walking behind the desk to sit, his voice cool and disengaged, the momentary flare of resentment giving him the nerve to call Vader's bluff.

"If you wish to take it to the Emperor then do so." Luke said at last, tone composed and even.

"I wish you to stop doing it." Vader repeated, having no real counter now that Luke had called him.

"Which I'm not going to - so do what you must."

Vader stepped forward, though the wide desk stopped him from coming too close to his unresponsive son, his tone derisory. "You won't beat him by playing him at his own game. You're playing to his strengths."

"Thank-you for the advice." Luke said coolly without looking up, eyes to the automemo on his desk. He neither wanted nor needed his father's involvement in his life- and he certainly wasn't going to be preached to by a man who had stood in the Emperor's shadow for the last two and a half decades.

Vader stared down at the boy, indignation and exasperation fairly blasting out of him now. He had no idea, none whatsoever, of how to speak to him, except in the way that he dealt with everyone else about him; as a menial or an adversary- someone to order and dismiss or to intimidate and oppress as he saw fit.

"I made you what you are." he asserted, voice clipped in anger.

That brought the boy's eyes up, burning with accusation. "Do you expect gratitude?!"

"I expect respect." Vader slammed his clenched fist down on the desk, making its contents jump.

His son only smiled tightly, as if amused that he could instil such blind frustration, his final barb yet to come, "Respect is earned."

For a split-second, Luke thought his father would actually lunge forward for him, his own muscles tightening in response, regretting sitting now, aware of the vulnerability of his position. But then, he hadn't expected his words to elicit such a response, and already now some uneasy pang whispered, so that it was he who lowered his gaze, not in submission and certainly not in guilt, but regret, on some level.

He sighed quietly, rubbing at his eyes, uncertain as to how he could feel even the slightest trace of compassion for the man who had caused nothing but pain and misery to him, frustrated that he allowed himself such weakness, yet completely unable to do otherwise. Such challenges as this were perhaps the nearest his father ever came to expressing some sense of protection for his son... or should Luke open his eyes and see it for what it really was; a protection of his investment, nothing more?

"If you want to help me then tell me who Lieutenant Reece's watcher is." Luke said quietly at last, speaking of the deep-cover agent placed by Palpatine to watch even his own most trusted agents such as Reece and Mara, both of whom were permanently assigned to Luke, supposedly as Aides, more correctly as spies. Luke had the identity of Mara's watcher, but more importantly he needed Reece's, and repeated searches had come up blank.

Vader tempered his own voice just slightly in reaction to his son's, but he didn't concede - and he wouldn't, not on this. "I won't help you to play these foolish, ill-conceived games. Palpatine owns everything on Coruscant. He sees everything. You know that."

"We're not on Coruscant." Luke said levelly.

"And you think that will protect you?"

"No- I think knowing my enemies will protect me." Luke stared into his father's resolute silence, his own frustration beginning to rise again. "Either help me or get out of my way."

Vader remained silent and unmoving, only feeding Luke's resentment. It was after all Vader who had instigated this - all of it.

It was Vader who had brought him to Palpatine thinking he could use his own son to solve the problems he hadn't the willpower or the commitment to resolve for himself; to realise all of his goals with none of the risk- and in doing so destroyed Luke's life completely without even a moment's hesitation or guilt. He didn't see his son when he looked at Luke, not really- he saw an advantage and sought to use it, just as Palpatine did, with neither consideration nor remorse. And until he saw that he had guaranteed control, Vader remained always duplicitous and undependable, aiding or hindering his son as it suited his own ends, often erring on the side of greatest power, giving empty loyalty and lipservice to the man he wished to depose.

And Luke was tired of it.

He rose, eyes locked on Vader's - no mask could hide his father's eyes from him. "It will come down to this- sooner or later it will come down to this one fact; him or me. I won't do what you want, it's not going to happen. I have my own mind and I have my own agendas and they're nothing like yours. But you're still eventually gonna have to make that decision- him or me. I'd start thinking it over if I were you because one day you'll have to take a side. You forced it on me without compunction, well get ready, because it's coming to you now. Which will it be, father? Make a choice."

.

Mara's eyes narrowed as Vader strode from Skywalker's ready-room and off the Bridge without pausing. She didn't bother to follow him, Admiral Joss and Reece already setting forward; they all knew that Skywalker would go ballistic if he found out that Vader or any of his crew had been allowed to wander the Peerless alone. Instead, Mara turned back to the door, pausing to knock lightly before pressing the door release.

Skywalker stood at the far side of the room, hands clasped behind his straight back, staring out into space. Or so it seemed- she'd fallen for this trick many times in the past, and knew him too well now to be fooled.

He had positioned himself so that he was able to see the door in the reflection of the transparisteel pane, watching her enter. In truth he needed only call on the Force to know her emotions or intent, but he used this method of studying without turning mostly on those who had Force abilities of their own and so would know if he was reading them and shield themselves in response. Though Mara's own grasp of the Force was limited, one of the few things the Emperor had taught her well was how to shield her thoughts. Despite her suspicions that he was able to break through her shields, Skywalker seldom actually did so- more as a matter of politeness through familiarity than anything else she suspected, much as she would like to believe otherwise.

Like Reece, Mara had remained with Skywalker, ostensibly operating as something between aides and bodyguards, and she and Skywalker had reached a kind of informal status-quo quite quickly, each learning to operate around the others' restrictions, neither so impolitic as to mention this directly to the other.

The first year and a half of his new life, Skywalker had been a constant trial, alternately listless and disinterested, holeing up in the same three rooms to the back of his extensive quarters for weeks, even months at a time, then tearing about the Palace like a vornskr with a sore head, striking out at anyone who came close when he was summoned to attend Court by Palpatine, always baiting and chastising, provoking and punishing until one or the other of them cracked and the game began afresh.

It was the event of his promotion to the military which had finally settled Skywalker into his new life - or rather, Mara sometimes suspected, the attendant freedoms which came with it. As Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet, Skwalker had gained relatively free access out of Coruscant, even though the Emperor had placed a strict veto on his leaving the Core and Colony systems. To Mara's mind it was a pointless restriction; in the first place, he was travelling with the Core Fleet, so was hardly likely to come to any harm, and in the second, placing any restriction further out than the actual Imperial Palace was academic, since if he intended to leave he had proved very early on in his association with the Emperor that pretty much nothing could stop him.

She suspected very much that this move was in truth just another round in the eternal game that the Emperor played with his Jedi, though these days they weren't quite the one-sided affairs that they had been in the past, the stakes rising subtly over time as Skywalker learned his craft and his opponent, making each victory on the Emperor's part a little harder won. Yet Palpatine always enjoyed the challenge. He alternately adored his 'Feral Jedi', heaping gifts and power and accolades upon him, then turned on him with a vengeance, finding fault in the slightest transgression, his temper mercurial, his punishment always extreme.

And Skywalker took it all with equal withdrawn distance, never involved, always impassive and aloof, equally wary of praise and punishment both.

This was his retribution on his Master, and he knew it drove Palpatine to distraction- and he knew why; knew his Master's particular obsession. He wasn't blind and he certainly wasn't naïve anymore, Mara knew. Nor was he above playing to the Emperors' weakness - to a point. But he remained forever distant and detached, always reserved, always removed, well aware of the dangers inherent in the game he played.

Because eventually Palpatine would lash out in frustration... and Skywalker would endure it without protest - even incite it - until that too became part of the contest. The vernacular of a familiar language with which they were both chillingly conversant. Because for Luke it meant that he had scored a blow; he had provoked in Palpatine the same impotent frustration that his Master took such great pleasure in inflicting on others.

That his proof of this came in the form of violent retribution bothered him not in the least, even Mara could see that. He suffered in the moment, terribly sometimes- she had seen the proof etched into his skin, scars upon scars now. But the ability to trigger that reaction, no matter how severe, was a triumph and Palpatine was always pulled back in for one more skirmish. She knew her master well enough to know that this veiled tension was what he thrived on; any interaction with his Jedi was rewarding, but this battle of wills had become a fascination bordering on addiction.

And Skywalker just kept on pushing. Partly because it was in is nature to be headstrong and stubborn, but also because deep down, Mara suspected that he believed he deserved no better. In this they fed each other.

Mara remained just inside the door, uncertain of the Commander's frame of mind; visits by his father often induced quicksilver swings between seething rage and bleak melancholy. Knowing he was watching her reflection, she glanced back meaningfully in the direction which Vader had just exited."What did he want?"

"He is Lord Vader." The Commander corrected without turning, a warning to Mara to correct her tone when referring to his father. Though there was no love lost between them, Mara knew that Skywalker would tolerate no disrespect from others towards his father.

She also hadn't failed to note that it was an effective avoidance of the question, and since Mara hadn't the authority to demand an answer from the Emperor's Jedi, if he hadn't chosen to reply the first time, he certainly wouldn't do so if she tried to rephrase it and ask again. As it turned out, he didn't even give her a chance.

"Bring the ship about- join up with the Fury and the Dominant and resume course to Neimoidia. Alter lightspeed calculations to take account of our delay."

"Of course, Commander." Mara acknowledged, letting the moment go; she would try again later when he was in a better frame of mind. "What should I enter into the ship's log as the reason for the delay?"

He turned to her, clearly amused by the uncharacteristic lack of subtlety in the question. Mara was probably closer to him than anyone else in his life at present, yet there were still gaping chasms between them, measured by wary amity and divided loyalties. "The truth, Mara. I'm sure the Emperor expects no less from you."

.

Luke remained hidden away in the privacy of his ready-room as the Super Star Destroyer came about, its companion visible for a short time as it lined up in preparation for the jump to hyperspace, tiny fleeting glimpses of TIE's catching the sharp light of Duro's sun, dwarfed by the Star Destroyers' bulk as they headed for the safety of their relative ships for the jump.

He should have been out on the bridge, but the meeting with his father had left him uneasy and edgy, as they tended to do, and to go out onto the bridge now would only invite some poor, nervous unfortunate to err beneath his exacting gaze and bring his wrath down upon them. Better to stay here and cool down- his reputation was harsh enough without underlining it.

His Master continued to place spies within his Command Destroyer, and Luke continued to play the endless game of removing them as and when he saw fit under the guise of frustration at some apparent failure in their duties, suspecting very much that his reputation for running through fleet officers at a rate of knots was very much like his father's; a thinly-disguised method of replacing Palpatine's spies with his own loyal recruits.

There were others of course, whom he never removed. Some by dint of converted loyalties, some in the belief that it was better the devil you knew and a few who had gained some measure of immunity through familiarity. Which of these Mara Jade was remained very much under question- it had been the latter two which had defined their relationship for the last three years, but Luke still held out some distant hope that it may become the first- to some degree. Every ounce of rational intelligence told him to abandon this thought, but some tiny spark of conviction remained, which was why he allowed her so close, even knowing that she was his Master's informer, her limited ability in the Force enabling her to communicate information and receive orders from Palpatine at surprising distances.

He was still expecting at some future date to sense that grating burst of presence in the Force which meant that his Master had made contact, and turn just in time to see her bring her assassin's knife up to his throat...

The slight stomach-churning lunge as artificial gravity rushed to compensate for incredible speed marked the Peerless' jump to hyperspace, the stars outside streaking to infinity as they outran the sluggish drag of light. Luke stared blankly out into the void, completely unmoved by the spectacle which he had imagined a hundred thousand times as a boy, still locked to the dry deserts of Tatooine. Tatooine- it had been a long, long way from there to here, measure in lost souls and broken dreams rather than lightyears and parsecs...

He turned quickly away, aware that he was dropping into this melancholy state simply as a reaction to his father's visit, glancing about the featureless grey walls of the room - he never bothered to add any kind of human touch to his surroundings here; what was the point? It was in reality little more than a prison. Carefully disguised of course- Palpatine awarded his precious 'Jedi' the illusion of freedom but they both knew the truth... in this at least.

But there were other secrets; greater lies... Luke had, after all, learned at the feet of a master. Learned to conceal, walls within walls, to twist the truth just enough to serve his own ends. To apreciate the irony of every lesson learned.

Because the freedoms his Master so judiciously doled out when he had awarded his Jedi command of the Core System's Fleet, enabling Luke to escape the stifling restrictions of Palace life on Coruscant and his Master's close presence, were in truth granted on the strength of a lie. A lie committed three years earlier and reinforced many, many times since that fateful duel between his father and himself. A lie that Luke was more than happy to have his Master believe; he could assume whatever he wanted as long as it bought Luke the freedom he craved...

Only it was never quite that. Palpatine never let his prized 'Wolf' run completely free. He simply awarded a longer chain. And even that would be snatched back in an instant if Palpatine knew the truth; what freedoms Luke was allowed were based on Palpatine's belief that he controlled his new Sith absolutely - and in many ways he did, Luke acknowledged that fact. But one of the cornerstones of that belief was his Master's conviction that Luke had stayed the lightsaber blow that would have killed his father because of Palpatine's direct command; that his order had overridden Luke's one driving desire.

The truth - and Luke had learned long ago to hide such things from his Master's searching mind - the real truth was that Palpatine's shouts and orders as that duel came to its explosive conclusion had affected Luke not one whit. If he had wanted to kill Vader he would have done so, and faced the consequences. It had, after all, been his intention when he initiated the duel.

But something else had stayed his hand that day- some hidden spark, some muted cry. He hadn't killed his father because in that moment...he couldn't. Despite everything he believed he'd thought, everything he thought still...he couldn't bring himself to land that blow.

Was he weak? Yes, and he hated himself for it. But then he hated himself for so many things- this was simply one more, lost in the crowd and easy to ignore. He didn't think about them anymore. It was too hard and they were too many.

Palpatine believed him fearless because he would answer any challenge, take any risk, throw himself against any enemy without hesitation.

"My Feral Jedi," his Master called him so indulgently, as if this were a commendation rather than a curse- "My Wild Wolf."

In truth all he craved was a quick death. The chains his Master had so diligently wrapped about his precious Jedi, mind and soul both, precluded any easier option. But if he was too bound to do the job himself, then others were queuing up for the privilege, and though his Master had taught him well, Luke had to believe that there was someone out there who was faster or more committed than himself.

And eventually, he would face them.

He had no illusions- they were too close to hope, and that was long lost.