In Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FIVE

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Stood before the bank of tall windows in the private rooms within his sprawling apartments, Luke remained silent before his father's words, tired, at low ebb, wishing him to leave. The room was barely lit, and he stared out into the ever-moving lights of the Capital planet, Vader's voice a bass background tone which rumble at the edge of his awareneness.

Reece, Luke's Aide and a scarce ally here, had remained discretely in the room beyond, his presence a wash of concern and disapproval as Luke spoke with his father. Having now passed on everything which was necessary to maintain his deceit to the Emperor, Luke now simply wished Vader gone before one of them lashed out at the other, as they always did when their obstinate wills eventually clashed.

It was well past midnight and much as he disliked it, he had been forced to speak to his father, Vader answering Luke's unspoken nudge in the Force and coming to his apartments. If it had been safe to pass the information on through a third party then Luke would have done so without hesitation, but each extra person in the chain was one more possible double-agent and even a trusted ally could be easily read by the Emperor, so that, distasteful as Luke found it, he had contacted his father directly.

That they were seen to have met was unfortunate but unavoidable here in the Palace, so it was better to do so out in the open rather than try to hide it at all. Still, Luke had limited the damage as much as possible, admitting Vader to private rooms within the vast Perlemian Apartments, his designated residence in the West Tower of the Palace. The three private rooms set together in the corner of the sprawling, extensive quarters were his only safe haven within the Palace, all surveillance equipment here rendered inoperative. Every time he left the Palace with the Fleet, the devices were carefully restored or reactivated from the empty levels above and below his apartments, and every time he returned, Luke immediately invested the time in finding them and subtly disabling them with the Force. It was yet another ongoing battle of wills with the Emperor which neither ever mentioned but both upheld.

Now he remained silent, listening to the familiar rasp of the breathing mechanism in his father's suit, leaning subtly back against the upright chair behind him for support, his body still fatigued from Palpatine's unexpected choice of chastisement. In truth, he'd gotten off very lightly; his Master had flown into vindictive, violent rages over far less.

Which prompted the question- why? Why had Luke been allowed that defiance? Palpatine had even used the term indulgent - not generally a word he associated with his Jedi...

And what was 'about to transpire'?

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"Luke?"

He turned, suddenly realising that Vader was speaking his name. "Yes?"

"Did you hear my question?"

"No. I wasn't listening." Luke said curtly, wishing to clarify that he had no interest in his fathers' claims; no curiosity in digging up old vendetta's one more time.

"Why did you not seek me out?" Vader asked, his tone indicating that he was condensing several previous questions into one.

Luke turned away again to look out into the distant city lights, considering.... not what to answer, but whether to answer at all. Should he simply turn around and leave the room?

After another long pause punctuated only by Vader's grating breaths, Luke sighed, annoyed as much at himself for allowing this conversation to continue as his father for initiating it. "I've told you- Ben said that my father had died, killed by Darth Vader."

The resentment bit out in Vader's bass tones; roiled through the Force like a wavefront. "Kenobi was a bitter, weak old man who filled your head with lies."

But though Luke was willing to answer his father, he was certainly not prepared to humour him. "Kenobi was right; my father died twenty-five years ago, when Darth Vader came into being. Everything he was, was destroyed by that creature- and him just the empty husk of pointless ambitions."

It was a pointed accusation, intended to bring this discussion to a close, but his father remained silent, prompting Luke to push further, his exhaustion giving him a brittle edge. He met his father's eyes, as if looking at an object of curiosity, his voice distant and uninvolved, "Was it worth it, all your ambition? Was it worth all the suffering you caused? How do you sleep now... or do you sleep at all? Can a machine sleep - or feel guilt?"

"I am trapped in this suit because of your precious Jedi teacher!"

Luke shook his head mildly, unoffended. "I don't defend him- I have no more loyalty to him any more than I have to you."

It was a subtle barb, casually delivered but with awareness of its power, Vader knew. The boy had long since learned to play the discreet games of the Palace which the Emperor had instigated- he had after all learned them from the true master. Intrigue, contrivance and artifice, true intentions hidden- or politely, patently clear.

Luke turned pointedly away to look out to the distant city, that reality growing ever more distant now- a fading dream, like so much of his old life. "But you're right, he was weak. He failed in his duty on Mustafar. He failed whatever beliefs and tenets he had held to in that moment. He failed the Jedi, he failed the galaxy- and he failed Anakin Skywalker."

Vader thought of all the misery and anguish Kenobi had rained down on his old student since that day- a revenge far worse than mere death. "I would have killed him, given the chance."

His son turned, that dispassionate expression a sting in itself, though it was nothing compared to his words; "But you did have the chance- you were there. You lost."

That brought Vader's head up, the acerbic harshness of it surprising even him. "You could not possibly understand - you were not there."

"No, which is a pity." His son turned away again to stare at the lights of the city, "Because I would have killed you."

He did not turn back, the conversation clearly over as far as he was concerned. Vader remained for a time, staring at his son, wondering whether the boy would eventually feel obligated to acknowledge his father. But he didn't, and finally Vader turned to leave, seething, wondering why he had pressed; why he continued to ask these questions, searching for some connection, some spark, when the boy pushed him away time and again.

He had no answer- except that he knew he could not do otherwise.

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Luke was lost in sleep when the sharp susurration whispered through the Force in his dreams, making him frown... then everything tilted, reality itself realigning, Luke gasping out, jerking upright, hands out to steady himself against the ethereal motion, his surprise lighting the dark room with a flash of Force-driven brightness, every surface, every wall, every structure within highlighted...

Then darkness as his awareness settled, no specific threat apparent.

Seconds later, he sensed Reece walking purposely through the withdrawing room adjacent to his bedroom and twisted about. "Yes." He allowed in permission, though the Aide had not yet knocked on the door. "Something's happened." Luke prompted as the thick doors swung open, Reece bowing before entering.

"Forgive the intrusion Sir, but I thought you'd want to see this." Reece set quickly forward, tone somewhere between excitement and portent, the backlit screen of the automemo he was holding illuminating a small circle about him in the thick gloom of the cavernous, sparsely-furnished room.

Luke took the automemo, read it, re-read it then glanced up, "This is verified?"

"Yes, Sir - it's already been announced across the HoloNet."

"Hm." Luke said simply, the tone of his short exclamation revealing that it explained a great deal- though probably only Reece could have read so much into so little, knowing him as well as he did. Luke handed the automemo back to the Aide. "This changes nothing, nothing at all- you know that?"

"I think perhaps in the eyes of others... it may make certain alliances easier."

"Too easy. Allegiance and ambition are not the same thing." Luke shook his head, too tired to consider the implications right now. "We'll talk in the morning."

Reece bowed then, realising new protocol, he backstepped and bowed again before turning to walk from the room.

"And don't ever do that again when we're in private quarters." came Luke's voice from the darkness.

Reece smiled, amused, pleased that The Commander hadn't ordered him never to do it at all, which considering the news would have been a breach of protocol, but had chosen to dismiss the pointless etiquette in private- which was very much his modus operandi. And one of the many reasons why Reece had defected.

"Of course, Sir." He acknowledged, leaving. Busy night ahead, once this got out....

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Leia was woken in the early hours of the morning by the comm, Han turning over and pulling the pillow over his head with a groan. Flicking the low light on, squinting from its glow, she fumbled across the nightstand.

"Leia." she acknowledged, not in the mood for talking.

"Leia, you need to see this." It was Mon's voice, tense with concern and trepidation, dragging Leia's eyes open with the same.

"Where are you?"

"In Ops." Mon said tightly, her voice obscured by a buzz of others close by.

Feeling her stomach tighten, Leia sat up. "C'mon flyboy." She prompted Han.

"What is it?" he drawled, still clinging hopefully to the pillow.

Leia shook her head, already dressing, "I don't know- but it's big."

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Fifteen minutes later, she was in Ops, staring at the message on the HoloNet channels with the same mixture of disbelief and unease as everyone else.

"Well that's it then." Leia said firmly, looking to Mon, a sense of empty finality flooding the small pocket of hope she'd secretly nursed for so long. "No arguing with that. When did it come in?"

"When I commed you." Mon replied, looking as dishevelled and sleep-weary as Leia felt, "We got a message a few hours ago from the Bothans, but nothing was verified."

"Well, it seems pretty authentic now." Leia said.

Mon nodded, looking back to the screen, "Heir Apparent."

The message was lengthy and authoritative, sent over all official channels on the HoloNet, the language decorous and legally relevant, painstakingly refined- but it ultimately boiled down to one thing.

Palpatine had named a successor - Luke Skywalker was now Heir to the Empire.

"I'm not surprised- it was always heading that way." Madine said uneasily.

"It seems so unlike him though," Mon reflected out loud, reading the proclamation for the fifth time, "Palpatine's never shown any willingness to share power."

"This isn't sharing; he's really offering nothing more than everyone already knew." Ackbar said, gravelly voice low, lost in consideration, "This has simply made it official."

"And bought him a few year's grace." Leia added. Mon turned to her, and she shrugged, "All the analysts say The Commander's formed a strong following within the military. They all say he'll take power within a decade- maybe Palpatine is officially confirming his position to head that off - why risk a coup when you can get everything you want just by waiting. It's all guaranteed now."

"We need to take this to the War Room." Mon said firmly. "We need a course of action- a response."

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"In your opinion?" Mon was trying to lock Tag Massa, the Intelligence Chief, down. They sat around a large circular table in the War Room, the plain walls and low light giving weight to the discussion, everyone staring to their automemo's to check again this amazing and totally unanticipated turn of events.

"This is a very unexpected move, Ambassador." Massa evaded, never one to be tied to a statement prematurely, "However I doubt that it's a stabilising move on the Emperor's part - it's simply not necessary."

"What about all the reports of The Commander forming a retinue in Court?" Leia prompted.

"It's true that The Wolf has formed a very strong power base in the last year, particularly in the military, but he's never exhibited any serious intention or desire to overthrow the Emperor." Tag said, her casual mention of The Commander's alias, often quoted in Imperial circles, setting Leia ill at ease and prompting her to wonder once again what his real name was. He'd never been referred to by the names of either Luke or Skywalker by anyone in the Empire- only when he'd been here, spying for his Master. Even the Bothans could find no definite links to that name, save for unsubstantiated verbal accounts relating to an Old Republic Jedi by the name of Skywalker. But as much as she tried not to, Leia still couldn't ever think of him by any other name.

Massa continued over Leia's thoughts, "Certainly nothing above the normal level of powerplay that one would expect in such circles. And on the few occasions that we have noted any real conflict forming, we've also noted that The Commander will disappear for days or even weeks. Whether he's banished from Court or chooses not to attend in order to diffuse the situation is unclear. What information we have is in his case-file... screens ninety through one-five-eight." She added, flicking quickly through them on her battered, well-used automemo.

"And he goes where?" Ackbar prompted with a flick of his elongated, webbed fingers.

"That, we have no idea, sir." she admitted, rubbing her eyebrows- she too had been up all night over this one, and didn't expect to get to sleep anytime soon. "But when he returns to Court, he appears more elusive and insular than ever- often for an extended period. That's in his psychological profile- screens..."

"And the conflict's always dispersed?" Mothma half-stated, half-asked, prompting Tag to look up without finishing, nodding just slightly in reply.

"Certainly it seems a deal less contentious, yes."

"But he is loyal to the Emperor?" Leia asked, feeling something important was being left unsaid.

"His psyche profile lists him as such." Tag said.

Which didn't answer the question, Leia knew. "And in your opinion?" she pushed.

"Opinions are biased, Ma'am." Tag said flatly.

"Please..." Leia soothed, inviting Tag Massa on. She was a balanced, thoughtful woman, young for her post at two years Leia's senior, having taken it on the death of her predecessor Odin Latt, who had been lost in an Imperial raid just eight months ago.

He'd been grooming the sharp-witted Massa for almost a year previously, but many had worried that her experience wasn't yet up to the task. For herself, Leia found the woman's inexperience an asset- she tended to veer away from many practices common in the Intel community, and this ability to 'think outside the box' made it difficult for her Imperial opposites to predict or lead her. Possessed of a quick, enquiring mind, she seemed unlikely to be intimidated by either mass opinions or flights of fancy and as such, Leia respected and trusted her judgement enormously.

Tag glanced down as if considering, then looked Leia in the eye, "In my personal opinion," she emphasised, "I question whether The Wolf has any explicit loyalties within the Empire. He accords every respect to Palpatine but he appears to make no friendships outside of the professional, maintaining a discreet distance from Court and the Emperor's entourage as much as possible... He remains, to all intents and purposes, outside of the society with which he is theoretically allied. Most of his own small entourage and known associates are military or ex-military, and he seems to spend time away from Court whenever possible, travelling with the Fleet in the Core and Colony Systems. Which is - in my personal opinion -"

She again paused to emphasis this, "The reason for his accession to Heir. I believe he will find it very difficult to remain outside of Imperial Court or political life now. Beings from across the board will attempt to connect themselves to him - it will be seen as a good long-term political investment, particularly as it now comes with the Emperor's seal of approval. Court will, effectively, be built up around him, whether he wishes it or not. Palpatine will still remain the Emperor, unassailable - but The Wolf will be inescapably dragged from a predominantly military position into a hierarchy he has thus far deliberately avoided."

The table remained very quiet for long seconds, in which Tag looked nervously down to her automemo. "In...my opinion." she finally added.

Leia blinked, taking all that in. Tag Massa had certainly given the issue some thought - but then, that was her job. "And Lord Vader?" she asked, moving the conversation on.

"Lord Vader would never have been given the Empire, Ma'am, not with The Wolf in the sidelines. Palpatine would always have held back power for him- it's clearly what he's been prepared for."

"Why?" Madine prompted, never one to mince words.

Tag considered before answering, "As far as we're aware, no-one outside of Palpatine's most trusted allies were aware of The Wolf's existence until he was presented to Court aged twenty-one, and awarded command of the Core Systems the following year, a reasonable age, considering his future position and his responsibilities. Despite his reluctance, he remains attached to Court and has a position of power second to none- the Emperor always keeps him close at hand..."

"I thought that was because he's considered unpredictable?" Madine said.

"If the Emperor considered him so very unpredictable, I would question why he was given control of the most affluent, influential planets in the Empire with the Core Fleet." Tag countered evenly, back on familiar ground now. "All our profiles indicate that he's in a highly favoured position with the Emperor and he always has been. Taking all of this into account, the unsubstantiated reports that he's Palpatine's son rather than those that he's Vader's may well be correct."

"I don't believe that. It just doesn't ring true." Leia maintained, searching in vain for facts to back up her gut feeling on this. "If he were Palpatine's son, why not declare him earlier? Why wait until he was twenty-one before presenting him to the Palace?"

"He would be better able to defend himself effectively by then." Admiral Ackbar said. "From both external and internal threats." he added pointedly.

Leia frowned, unconvinced. "If that was Palpatine's concern, then why send him out on missions as dangerous as infiltrating the Alliance?"

"Perhaps Sk..." Ackbar almost said it, Leia knew; almost committed what had become the unforgivable mistake of referring to Luke by the name he'd used whilst spying on the Rebel Alliance. But he recovered admirably, continuing without further pause, "Perhaps he felt the need to test himself, to gain some practical experience - it would certainly increase his standing within the military. Or perhaps Palpatine felt the same?"

"It's too much of a gamble. Would you risk your son and heir by sending him to infiltrate the Alliance - it's like throwing a lamb to the wolves..." Even as she said it, Leia knew her error, given the nickname which had rifled through the Empire's military circles since Luke's promotion to Fleet Commander. Surprisingly it was Mon Mothma who called her on it.

"Considering his success, it seems that it was rather more like throwing a wolf in among the lambs. Perhaps Palpatine knew it would be the same."

There was a long silence at this, everyone stewing on the past; Skywalker's alias was first heard from the Bothan spy network immediately following his return to the Empire after infiltrating the Alliance, his codename whilst working as a spy first made reference to by Black Sun. But that was all they had - that was all anybody had on him; a few disjointed accounts and untraceable details. Everyone remained silent in consideration of the conundrum he still represented.

"I would argue that given his new position it's immaterial whose son he is." Mon Mothma said at last, bringing everyone's minds back to the present. "It's what he will be that concerns us."

It was Crix Madine who voiced what everyone had thought but no-one would be the first to utter. "It would seem reasonable for us to break the chain - to stamp out this line of succession before it's established."

No-one reacted, no-one made eye contact. It fell to Leia to speak it out loud; "Are you talking about assassination?"

"I would say yes." Madine said, meeting her gaze. "It would be difficult, but not impossible, given that he travels around the Core Systems regularly, unlike the Emperor."

Leia squirmed in her seat, deeply uncomfortable with this, "No-one would ever get close enough."

Had she said that? Was she inviting discussion? She felt her cheeks heat- what would her father have said? He had believed that there would eventually be a diplomatic solution- believed it with all his heart. What would he have said now?

"There are other ways." Madine said, all business now. As an ex-Imperial, Leia always felt he believed he had something to prove- and he was never afraid of getting his hands dirty. He retained that particular confidence that all Imperial Officers enjoyed; the absolute conviction that he was right- that whatever means he saw fit was an acceptable action, no matter how... blunt. "There are numerous methods which require no direct contact and therefore would be difficult for even a Sith to trace. Methods on a grander scale."

Leia frowned, uncertain she wanted to hear this. "Like what?"

Madine shrugged elaborately, looking to Mon Mothma for support. "A bomb perhaps?"

Leia didn't fail to notice the meaningful glance that passed between Mon Mothma and General Madine, though Mon turned her eyes down in warning. As Leia turned to Madine, she caught Tag's eye and recognised the same look on the Intel Chief's face; this was something going on between Mon and Madine then; something even Tag Massa didn't know.

Mon Mothma considered, finally speaking out loud. "We'd have to consult existing records, find out exactly what he's capable of. I'm sure it would require more complex consideration to ensure a favourable result."

Leia was dragged from her reverie by Mon's casual air, hard intent disguised by oblique references. Why didn't she just come out and say it- to guarantee we could murder him.

"Is this what we've come to? Is this what we are now?" The tone of her words brought everyone's eyes to her. "What has he really done against us?" Leia couldn't believe she'd said that - almost word for word Han's argument. She'd dismissed it so easily then but now, faced with this- it wasn't even that she liked Luke Skywalker or whatever the hell his real name was, it was just that... it felt wrong. In every fibre of her body, it felt wrong.

"I assume you're talking beside standing second-in-command to the Emperor, maintaining and stabilising his dictatorship, murdering individuals without trial, infiltrating and informing on the Alliance, overriding inalienable sentient rights and practicing Sith doctrines?" Mon challenged smoothly.

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"I think we're beyond superficial sophistries now, Leia." Mon chided, "Sometimes one must look at the greater picture. Can we really afford to let a Sith dynasty take hold?"

Leia shook her head, not certain why she was fighting this corner, but very sure that she was doing so alone, "I'll say again; what has he ever done to indicate that he disapproves of the Alliance- that he would be a threat to us if he came to power? He may well be the one to end this civil war."

"One way or another." Madine said grimly.

Leia turned to Tag Massa for support, "You said yourself; he has no loyalty to the Empire."

"He's already illustrated the extent of his loyalty to the Alliance." Mon argued, shooting that argument down.

"If we're going to make an assassination attempt, should it not be for the Emperor?"

Mon shook her head, "The Emperor is far harder to reach. Even if that were possible, the logical path would be to remove his successor first, otherwise all we do is aid The Wolf's ascension to power, create a dynasty by putting another Sith on the throne, an unknown, unpredictable quantity. General Madine is right- better to stop this line of succession now."

Leia rubbed her forehead, tired and irritable, "I can't condone this action. I won't."

"May I ask, Leia-" Mon said, voice like steel wrapped in silk, "Are you speaking as a leader in the Alliance - or as his friend?"

That was a low blow. Leia drew herself up in her chair, fixing Mon with her most unassailable stare. Mon had been a master in the Senate chamber, but Leia had served too, young as she was - and she'd learned a thing or two. "That was uncalled for. Yes, I was deceived, as we all were- but my loyalties remain the same. They are to the Alliance and to democracy. And I won't have that brought under question to serve ulterior motives."

Mon held her stern stare for long seconds, everyone else at the table suddenly finding some pressing reason to look elsewhere as the two strongest wills in the Alliance hierarchy met head on...

"Perhaps," Ackbar offered at last, always the voice of reason, "We should reconvene at a more convenient hour. We're all tired and this isn't the time to make far-reaching decisions- it requires a more considered approach before we move forward."

Both women slowly settled back into their chairs, but Leia couldn't quite let it go yet. "I'm not happy about playing devil's advocate in this, but I won't see us make a decision which would shape the view the rest of the galaxy holds of us and the course of all our future dealings without considering all possible ramifications."

"Are you suggesting that we would?" Mon asked, unyielding.

"I'm suggesting that our principles seem a little compromised here. You accuse me of having a biased opinion of The Commander. I would accuse you of the same. He hurt us and he undermined our image... and you want retribution."

"It was not me who brought the question as to how to deal with this subject to light, Leia." Mon challenged levelly.

Oh, that was good, Mon, Leia had to allow as General Madine stepped in, Mon having neatly brought him into the argument, deflecting Leia's last comment towards him.

"May I remind you, Princess, that we are at war." The General said sternly, "And our enemy's strategy has suddenly become very clear. It is my duty to do everything within my power to shorten this war and ensure a positive outcome. Or do I misinterpret the parameters of my duties?"

Leia turned to him, forced to defend on two fronts now. "No, General. But there are conventions, even in war. It would be rather difficult to maintain the moral high-ground when we're holding assassin's knives."

"In case you failed to notice, your Highness, The Wolf's primary Aide is an Imperial assassin." Madine countered, voice full of scorn.

As good-a soldier as he was, Madine was no diplomat, and Leia again blessed her father for drilling those skills into her before she had the slightest sense of their value. "And you disapprove of that, General?"

Madine paused, seeing that he had been cornered, glancing momentarily to Mon Mothma.

Admiral Ackbar took the initiative in the ensuing silence, "I think that perhaps we should break for now, to give Intel some time to put forward a more rounded view of this situation. We'll reconvene in the morning- details will be sent to your offices. Thank-you."

There was a pointed finality to it which no longer invited debate, everyone looking to disperse before the situation deteriorated, even Leia. It wasn't what she was there for- it had just somehow happened. But she hadn't failed to notice that Mon, ever the consummate diplomat, had managed to get someone else to fight her corner rather than dirty her own hands. Leia sighed, rising to walk from the War Room, her automemo clutched to her chest, Han catching her eye as she passed into the ante-room.

"Hey. You got that 'someone just stepped on my toes and I'm about to jump up and down on his' look in your eye." He murmured easily, falling into step beside her, hair still mussed from sleep.

"Not at all." she said tersely, eyes on Madine as he walked from the room ahead of her, deep in discussion with Mon.

"O-kay." He said, clearly unconvinced. After several silent steps, he tried again, "So what's going on?"

Leia's mind was still reeling, trying to find a path through too much information. But she turned to Han, knowing this would be a blow for him, "Luke's been named by Palpatine as Heir Apparent to the Empire."

Han's feet stuttered to a halt as he stared at Leia, who felt for some reason strangely guilty- as if it was she and not Luke who had let Han down.

"That's...not..." it was all he could manage, his face bewildered and wounded, Leia regretting now having told him so directly.

"I'm sorry, Han." she said, but he was looking away now, eyes to the assembled Chiefs as they walked away, heads down.

"So what were you talkin' about in the War Room?" he asked, voice low with suspicion.

"They're...we're," Leia corrected herself, "trying to decide a course of action."

Han's eyes narrowed, "Like what?"

Tag Massa passed through Leia's field of vision behind Han, and Leia briefly rested her hand on Han's arm in reassurance, "Wait here."

Leia hurried her step to catch up with Massa, Han holding back, knowing her well enough to know that she was up to something.

"That's quite an interesting opinion you hold, Chief." Leia said as she drew level with the Intelligence Chief.

Tag turned those sharp eyes on Leia, "If not a particularly popular one."

Leia shrugged, "I'd rather be fair than popular...fortunately." she added wryly

Tag smiled just slightly at that. "I stand by it." She added, though she glanced down, Leia feeling that she was uneasy at saying so aloud.

"May I ask you a question?" Leia said breezily, the memory of Tag's studied expression at the meaningful look between Mon and Madine still foremost in her mind.

Tag smiled, "On or off the record?"

Leia too smiled at that; never try to get smart with an Intel Officer. "Off. But then you knew that."

"Go on?" Tag invited.

"If you were outside of this situation - an impartial observer - given the characters and the present leadership here... what do you think the outcome of this debate will be?"

Massa glanced down, walking on for a short time in silence, Leia not pushing her as she turned that pin-sharp mind to the question, running through all possible scenarios.

"Given the disposition and the objectives and the history involved, particularly in General Madine's case... I think they'll go for an assassination attempt. I think the General will push for it because he has his own agenda and logic and I think Chief Mothma will back him for two reasons; firstly because this has seriously rattled her- she generally has a pretty good handle on the Emperor but in this instance she didn't see it coming and has no idea what Palpatine's doing though this is a major, major event. And secondly because she and Madine work well together; she trusts him and Madine seems so sure of the necessary actions and response. He'll pressure her into a decision because he's ex-Imperial military and they're used to having their own way and because there's no more fervent-an anti-smoker than someone who's just quit. Madine still feels he has something to prove here- he still wants to hurt the Empire and he's still smarting that The Wolf just walked in here and took everyone in, himself included. Admiral Ackbar will try to be the voice of reason, but Mon Mothma will sway his opinion because he's Mon Cal and they respect authority, and because he and Chief Mothma have a long history. And finally there's yourself; but your opinion in this matter is considered - forgive me - somewhat biased; you had a close relationship with The Wolf when he was here and you now have a very close relationship with..." she paused, looking significantly at Han, no more needing to be said. "So yes, I think they'll go ahead. Despite your continued objections."

She glanced apologetically to Leia, forced amusement in her face, "But that's just a personal opinion, you understand. I haven't run it through any programs."

Leia smiled again without looking up, "And in your personal opinion...is that right?"

The smile fell away from Massa's face and she let out a long breath, "No. I don't think we should be lowering ourselves to the Empire's level. We don't assassinate people on a whim; we put them to trial by jury. If we can't maintain that basic tenet then I think we should seriously re-evaluate our ties because we don't deserve to associate ourselves with the values of the Old Republic. And I also think your assessment was valid- The Wolf has never made an unprovoked move against us. That may seem like splitting hairs to some, but given the subtle plays which define the circles in which he moves, any gesture, however small, would have been carefully considered by himself and therefore should be be taken into account by us."

Leia glanced down, blessing Han for giving her this opportunity - and an unexpected ally. Massa was one of the very few beside those directly involved who knew the full story of Luke Skywalker; it was considered necessary to her position.

"I would add one thing, Ma'am," Massa offered, stopping in the corridor to face Leia, "I've watched him a long time and read every psyche profile and incident report, and I think I know him well enough to tell you this much- if they do decide to make an assassination attempt, then I will do my level best to make sure it's flawlessly executed and hope with all my heart that it will be successful... because Force help us all if it's not."

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Luke sat in the huge, coffered-ceiling dining room in his private quarters eating breakfast, the tall balcony doors flung open to the morning, dispelling a little of the stuffy gloom that always encapsulated the dark-paneled room.

"So what is my title?" he asked doubtfully of Wez Reece, who was sat at the table with him, the medic Hallin beside him. Between them Reece knew they constituted the total number of people Luke believed he could trust on Coruscant.

Neither men ate, of course, but it was amazing how comfortable Skywalker had become with the fact that there always seemed to be an inordinate amount of people who found it necessary to be close to him at any given hour of the day.

Right now there were, beside Hallin and Reece, two footmen on the other side of the door, waiting to clear the table - there was a standing order that no servants were allowed to attend in the actual room - being dutifully watched by two plainclothes members of the Palace Guard always referred to as 'escort', who trailed the Commander around the Palace, other than when he was with the Emperor. Two Royal Guard were always on sentry duty outside the apartments, with a further four on duty in the Guard House, a small suite just inside the door, this opposite the larger suite of Staff Rooms, in which two Court Ministers, two adjutants, three advisors - whom Skywalker had never once consulted - a chamberlain, a chief steward, three stewards and two equerries.

Three stories down but connected internally to his apartments were various attendants, harbingers, cooks, house staff, and a wardrobe master. Aside from servants, most of his in-house staff were military or ex-military, as were all members of his retinue. Though few made it this close of course; his entourage had remained pointedly small, restricted to the half-dozen or so people whom he genuinely trusted, another half-dozen allowed to remain not-quite-as-close in order to belay the Emperor's suspicions.

An awful lot of people, requiring an awful lot of managing to keep them always subtly removed from the Commander - now the heir - a fact that Reece, whose job this was, assumed would continue to cause him headaches in the near future. Though he had a feeling that his next major hurdle was looming right now-

"Highness." Reece said simply, identifying the Commander's new title and waiting for the anticipated reaction.

It was now three days since the official announcement had been made and though he hadn't said as much, the Commander was clearly trying his best to keep a low profile which was difficult within the Palace at the best of times, a steady stream of Courtiers, politicians and military climbers contacting his secretaries and requesting permission for an audience to congratulate the new heir, none of which had been granted as yet. Many others who knew his reclusive ways opted to leave messages or gifts, believing this the more politic choice.

Neither would work of course, since the Commander hadn't wanted the title in the first place and placed little store by it anyway - this was in fact the first time he had even asked his title, prompted by Reece's insistence that certain matters of State needed to be dealt with, a string of gradually more insistent communique's arriving from the Ministry of Court Protocols.

So all in all Reece had been braced for a less-than-enthusiastic reaction.

Luke practically balked, "Really? Couldn't it be something a little less... pretentious?"

Reece raised his eyebrows, his tone both formal and familiar, something he had spent the last three years developing. Ten years Luke's senior, he had been recruited to his present post by Saté Pestage, and regarded a large part of his job as grooming the younger Commander - now officially heir - for his future position.

"It's not a multiple choice, Sir. That is your correct title now. The Emperor should of course be Majesty, but since that's also the title of any ruler to any Royal House, it was felt that a distinction should be made and Excellency is also an acknowledgement of his previous position as High Chancellor. His Imperial Majesty is however, also correct, which makes your title as Highness correct Form, as it would be for any heir to a throne."

Luke frowned, pushing back his plate, his provincial accent coming defensively to the fore as Reece had known it would. At the Emperor's command, after almost a year of avoidances, the Commander had finally relented and an etiquette tutor had invested a great deal of time in eradicating his Rim accent, but one could only ever overwrite such an old habit, Reece knew, never remove it entirely. It now faded in and out as Luke saw fit, depending on his audience, mood or provocation at any given time.

"Highness is just a little... you know..." Memories of Han regularly referring to Leia as 'Your Highnessness' drifted unbidden through Luke's thoughts.

Reece stifled a sigh, considering. "You could perhaps petition to be referred to on official documentation as 'The Heir'. The request could reasonably be made on the grounds that, like the Emperor, some distinction should be made between yourself and any Crown Prince to a planetary house. The title could also be used when referring to you in the third-party, which is general etiquette for someone of your stature anyway. Recognized 'Form' is for someone speaking directly to you to acknowledge you for the first time each meeting as Your Highness and subsequently as Sir."

Luke glanced at Hallin, who shrugged elaborately into his friend's distaste, "Who'd have thought a name could be this complicated?"

"Can't they just call me sir like they do now?"

"No, Sir." Reece said flatly.

"You just did."

"That's because I have already addressed you several times in this meeting, so I may now properly address you as Sir." Reece clarified in his most stately manner, always the experienced voice of decorum and Form, his many years in the Palace gaining him an extensive knowledge of such matters; surprisingly so considering he had an ex-military background, having originally come here as a Royal Guard.

Luke leaned back, uneasy; Reece's formal manner always got his back up; it was like talking to Threepio on a bad day.

"This is nothing." Hallin dismissed, "Wait until you get to who may and may not properly address you directly and how close they may stand and how they enter and leave your presence..." he paused momentarily as Luke turned to him, appalled, then shrugged apologetically; "They gave us all lessons the day before yesterday."

Exasperated, Luke twisted up and out of the chair, turning on the other two men as they both made to rise, finger pointing in warning, "Do not stand up!"

Both men froze uncomfortably as he turned and left, heading for the privacy of his withdrawing room. The silence stretched out for long minutes before Hallin asked casually, "Happy now?"

Reece settled back down, eyes on the large autoreader he had brought in with him. "I haven't even mentioned the flag yet."

"Flag?"

"He has to pick a flag.... for when he's in residency."

Hallin rose, quietly sliding the heavy carved chair back against the table with exaggerated care.

"Where are you going?" Reece asked of the medic.

"I think I'll be giving The Heir a wide berth for a few hours," Hallin observed matter-of-factly, "But good luck with that flag thing."

.

It was Mara who came to Reece's aid when she passed on yet another message from the Master of Ceremonies and Palace Protocols - apparently his fifth today - politely requesting clarification on the new Heir's decision, Reece having to admit that he had not found 'the right moment' to broach the subject of the flag yet. Mara had raised finely-arched eyebrows and turned about, retrieving the designs from the staff offices. Not even close to shoulder-height with Reece's hefty bulk, her trim, almost delicate and misleadingly non-threatening form often bought her immunity in many situations where Reece would hesitate to tread.

Knocking on the door to the drawing room she entered without hesitation, the large Autoreader under her arm, images already called up. She was her usual direct self; "You need to choose a flag."

Luke didn't even glance up from the table where he was working, automemo and stylus in hand, doors once again flung open to the morning, "Aren't you supposed to call me Highnessness or something?"

"You need to choose a flag, Highness." Mara stated without hesitation.

It had come as less of a shock to her when she'd heard a few hours before the official release that Palpatine was about to name Luke as Heir; he'd always privately made it clear to Mara that this was his ultimate aim, from the very first time she had seen him when he'd arrived unconscious, battered and bruised from Bespin. It hadn't exactly been a seamless transformation from Rebel pilot to Sith advocate and judging from Luke's less than gracious reaction to the news, more was undoubtedly still to come, but essentially the change was made and set in stone; even she could see that.

"Where's Hallin?" Luke countered as she stepped forward, throwing Mara momentarily.

"What?"

"Hallin- where's Hallin?" he repeated expectantly in that particular tone that everyone, even Mara, couldn't help but react to.

"I don't know - do you need him?"

"Yes- find him."

Mara turned about and was three steps to the door before she faltered; oh, he had the whole confident authority thing down to a tee now, she reflected irreverently. The amount of time he'd spent at the Palace and in Court, no matter how unwillingly, had forced him to learn to use every tool in his box to prevail, and his position and people's perception of such, was just one more.

Did he realize that these too were lessons Palpatine had forced upon his advocate? If he did, it didn't stop him utilizing them, but then Skywalker was nothing if not pragmatic.

"I'll organize that." Mara said aloud, turning about to set back towards him, "In the meantime, you need to look at this."

Skywalker raised his eyebrows, glancing from her to Reece, who had entered with her, clearly seeing that he was under a two-prong attack here. "Reece, find Hallin please; Commander Jade seems incapable."

Reece automatically backstepped and left the room with a sharp bow, leaving Luke and Mara to square off, Mara realizing she had just lost half her team.

Still, she kept walking, placing the automemo on the table before him, "Flags; would it kill you to choose one?"

Luke sighed, sliding the automemo away, "No, not really- I'll choose one later."

"Chose one now and then it's done."

He glowered, squinting up in the morning sun, "What - have you got someone sat at a table with needle and thread, waiting?"

Mara sat opposite him, unfazed, "If I said yes, would you pick one?"

"Aren't you supposed to wait until you're invited to sit now?"

"Who told you that?"

"Reece, and he's seldom wrong about pointless etiquette." Luke countered, pulling his own automemo back to him, which Mara had subtly slid aside when she'd put hers down before him.

"See, some of it does sink in." Mara countered, of Reece's constant lessons, turning as he re-entered the room.

"Hallin is on his way, Highness."

Luke glanced up, unamused at the title, however 'correct form' it was. "I think I'm gonna ban that right now- in fact I am. No-one uses it again."

Reece turned a long-suffering look to Mara, who shrugged; she didn't like it anyway, it didn't suit him- it was a pretentious title and he was many things but that wasn't one of them. "Well now that's sorted, could we move on to choosing a flag?"

Luke sighed, placing his automemo down with exaggerated frustration, "Why?"

"Because one needs to be flown on the pole in front of the main Monolith whenever you're in residence- which is now."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." Mara held his eye, refusing to buckle.

"That is the most pointless thing I've ever heard."

"Welcome to the Palace." Mara countered, unmoved.

He sighed, turning the automemo Mara had carried in with her around to face him, "Fine. I'll have that one."

"You can't just pick the first one you see."

"I like it- it'll do fine." Luke countered unconvincingly, glancing back to the image, "It has colors, it has... what the hell is that?"

"It's a...." Mara leaned in, looking at the design and reading the short explanation that came with it, " 'Modified Navy Jack of the Core Fleet- to make reference to The Heir's military standing', it says."

Luke squinted, "It doesn't look anything like the Fleet Jack."

"It's modified." Mara repeated pointedly, reaching out to press the 'image replace', "The point is that there are thirty or so designs- you're supposed to choose one which you feel best exemplifies you."

"Do they have one with a womp-rat on?" Luke grumbled.

"It's not a literal translation." Mara countered, unable to resist.

There was a quiet knock at the door and Hallin entered, performing his usual flawless bow before glancing over to Luke, "Am I supposed to call you Highn..."

"No, Highness is banned." Luke said sharply without looking up, "And so apparently is waiting to be allowed to sit, so you may as well do that too."

Hallin paused a second before setting forward, his manner changing abruptly, voice open but droll, "Ah, let normality reign- or as near as we get around here."

Luke smiled and glanced up at that, and Mara shot a surreptitious sideways look at Hallin, aware of what he was doing. She'd never really thought about it before, but the medic had always seemed to be somewhere near Skywalker, whether he was in the Palace, with the Fleet or planetside with Imperial Forces. She'd always just considered him a medic in attendance rather than part of Luke's entourage; someone on the fringes of the elite rather than closely involved, though Luke tended to be guarded even in this.

Still, much as she dismissed him, it was Hallim's casual, flippant air which had effortlessly dispelled Skywalker's difficult mood now, and if she'd had any doubts as to his position here, then Skywalker's next words shattered them.

"Hallin will do it." Luke said, gesturing him forward.

"What?" the medic had just made to sit and froze mid-action, aware of all eyes turning to him.

"Come and choose a flag." Luke said, ignoring Mara as she spun back to him, green eyes narrowing as her jaw flexed.

"For what?" Hallin asked, stepping forward uneasily, though he knew full well; had been trying his best to avoid it.

"Me." Luke said, turning the automemo about.

Hallin glanced uncomfortably at Mara as he walked around the far side of the table then stretched out to press the image-change, leafing through the designs. Mara resisted the urge to snatch it back, frustrated that Skywalker wasn't taking this seriously.

"Really- a flag?" Hallin asked, echoing The Heir's own indifference.

"Absolutely." Luke assured, coming round to the idea now, "Choose with care- one day soon you may be flying it at half-mast."

"Why," Hallin asked, tone glibly dismissive, "What have you done now?"

"Nothing yet," Luke grinned, teasing eyes turning to Mara, aware that she was fuming, "That Mara knows of anyway."

Hallin leaned in to rearrange three images on the screen, "This one is good, with the stylized lightsaber hilt against the two.... are they moons or suns?... and that one with the... what is that?" he prompted, finger on a wreath on one of the flags.

Mara pursed her lips, so Luke prompted her expectantly, "Mara?"

She ground her jaw, but answered without looking to the medic, "It's lorric willow- a sign of royalty. They used to crown their rulers with it in the Teta System because they thought it encompassed the best attributes of a leader- it's strong but flexible and never breaks."

"I'm not from the Teta System." Luke parried without hesitation.

"Hey, I didn't design it." she grumbled. When she glanced up at him though, his expression was laced with wicked amusement rather than genuine confrontation, and she huffed, annoyed that he could bait her so easily, frustrated by his lack of interest in or excitement about his incredible new position and title. She held his eye and he grinned momentarily, then glanced down, finally giving a moment's considered thought.

"I like the first one- the twin suns..." Again he paused, seemed to reflect; "But with two sabers, crossed, not one."

Dark eyebrows scowled beneath her flash of gold-streaked auburn hair, "Why two?"

"I like the symmetry." Luke replied vaguely, adding, "And why don't we have Palpatine's precious wreath of lorric willow behind them, just to keep him happy."

Mara frowned; Palpatine had of course dictated the designs that Luke would be given a choice of, though he'd been sure that Luke would choose the twin sun design, given his heritage. But Luke was right; the lorric willow had been his Master's concept.

"How did you know?" it was all she could ask.

"You said lorric was flexible," Luke said, rising dismissively as if tiring of the game now, "That which is flexible is also compliant."

Was that what the Emperor was inferring when he'd ordered the design? Mara frowned; was he still playing his games, even here? It would be so like him to do that- and typical of Skywalker to spot it, his close association with his Master ensuring that he'd identify any entendré, no matter how subtle.

"Then why use it?" Hallin asked, offended on Luke's behalf, though Luke himself seemed completely indifferent, having already turned away to gaze distractedly out over the city below.

"Because I don't care; let him have his petty game. I really don't care."

Mara stared uneasily at the design of the two suns, the smaller of the two set part way behind the larger, not hearing Luke's words, something disturbingly familiar about the images, as if she'd seen them in a dream once...

.

.

As he left, Mara slipped away to catch up with Hallin. He cut through the unofficial shortcut which took him through Luke's spacious office and down the curved corridor beside the library, Mara taking the alternate route through the main cupola and running to be at the intersection point of the main hallway before Hallin, leaning casually against the wall as he rounded the corner. He slowed a few steps as he saw her, but clearly decided to try to brazen it out, setting forward again.

He didn't break pace as he continued down the corridor and past the silent Mara, aware of her disapproving gaze on him every step of the way, her eyes narrowed to emerald slits though she didn't move, didn't speak until he was three steps past her, the relative safety of the more public, surveillance-heavy hallway tantalisingly close.

"That was quite a show." Mara said, voice studied but casual. "Amazingly I never really realised until today."

"Realized what?" Hallin stopped, turning as he spoke, feigning ignorance though he knew what she was talking about.

Mara only nodded, "As I said; quite a show."

"Whatever it is you're referring to, I'm sure you're right." The medic said vaguely, hoping to disperse this, setting forward again.

"Don't get too comfortable though." Mara sniped, stopping him dead.

"Meaning?"

She shrugged, "I'd hate to think you... abused the position you've obviously worked so hard to gain. The repercussions would be... grave."

Hallin turned, "I think you have me confused with someone else- I have no ambitions above backing up a friend. And yes, I have worked very hard to gain that position; because I happen to value that friendship."

"Really? Because that was quite a display of persuasion today and if it was for my benefit I'm not impressed."

Hallin rounded on her, tone wounded and affronted at once, "Did it ever occur to you that The Commander's awkwardness today may be due to his discomfort at his new position - that he may feel that this is being forced upon him, or that he's uncertain what the Emperor expects in return?"

Mara paused before his sharp words, embarrassed by the obvious insight, "He doesn't need your protection." she maintained, unwilling to back down.

"Then whose does he have, Commander- yours?" Hallin countered dismissively, and Mara was surprised at the fire she saw in his eyes; it wasn't something she associated with the diminutive, easy-going medic.

"Does that seem so unlikely to you?" she asked; a momentary slip.

"Actually no." Hallin said, that perfectly-modulated voice as self-possessed as ever. "I'd like to think we're arguing the same point here, Commander. I don't wish to see him hurt- I assume you are searching to clarify the same. So if it helps, I can assure you that I am sincere in my commitment. I'd like so say I hold the same confidence in you... but the truth is that I can't, can I? And I'm not alone in recognizing your conflict of interest."

With that final sting, he set off down the corridor, leaving Mara to watch him go, surprised at the honesty in his words. She glanced down, the slightest of smiles touching the corners of her lips, amused in the way that a timber bear might be when cautioned by a pup's yap; it was kind of nice to think that Skywalker had someone watching his back, even if it was only Hallin.

She pushed off from the wall, shaking her head in amusement; still, she shouldn't get complacent. Some pups grew up to be house dogs... and others grew up to be wolves.

.

.

.

"Autonomy is earned." The Emperor remained casually seated on the heavy, carved chair without looking round to his charge, who paced before the bank of tall, slim windows in the audience chamber of his Cabinet like an animal caged, eyes roving the cityscape beyond, always on that dark horizon.

"When?" The boy had asked permission to leave Court and been refused again. He desperately wanted to return to his ship, to the fleet, and Palpatine's refusal had instigated this discussion again, another replaying of an old argument. Not that Palpatine minded; it was never quite the same, the boy always managing to bring some new twist to it, especially when he was as frustrated and as discontented as he was now.

Darkness suited him; he wore it like a second skin. Just like the bespoke, hand-tailored clothes he wore, what had once seemed so obviously uncomfortable and unfamiliar had become second nature. It never failed to mesmerize; to push Palpatine to keep his work of art here for his personal appreciation just one more day. Though to say such out loud would be breaking the unspoken rules of this particular game.

"When I trust you." he said instead.

"Trust!" the word came out in a disbelieving, derisive laugh, "You'll never trust. Try another tactic, Master- that will never work."

Palpatine set his head on one side, unoffended, "Tell me, Jedi- what do you want?"

"Freedom." Luke said simply.

The Emperor only smiled, "Freedom is an illusion."

"Then give me the illusion." Luke replied doggedly.

Palpatine shook his head tolerantly, tone laced with patronising familiarity which grated against Luke's terse irritability. "You would always look for the bars, child; always seek to test them. It is in your nature."

"Why do you always speak in riddles?" Luke challenged, hearing the frustration in his own voice.

"Because you do not want to hear the truth."

"Because I don't believe that you speak it." Luke said, turning to face his Master, pulled back in to the battle for one more round, frustrated as much at himself for allowing it as at his Master for instigating it.

Palpatine only smiled, enjoying the game. He had in truth no reason to keep the boy here and they both knew it; all the official functions were done, the long list of formal procedures and protocols which accompanied the Emperor's announcement of his heir observed and concluded yet still Palpatine kept him here- in truth for no other reason than that he enjoyed the boy's company, reluctant as it was. And Skywalker knew it too- it unsettled him; offended him, as all Court life did- the distanced, indifferent façade he maintained transparent before the Force.

The Emperor grinned, thin lips pulled back from stained teeth at his fallen Jedi's frustration, , "Black and white exist only for the pawns in board games. The Force will not be bound by such absolutes- life will not be bound. The truth will not be bound... and neither should you."

"There is right and wrong." Luke held firm.

"Yes... but they are not the constants you try so hard to cling to and I think you know that now. And yet still you hobble yourself- try to judge your actions according to the simple allegories of children's tales. The universe is far too complex to be bound by yes and no, right and wrong, light and darkness. They are only words."

"They're not words, they're ideas." Luke refuted, "Ideals."

"Ideals which destroyed the Jedi because they tried to hold to a principle which was not viable- one which was fundamentally flawed in its naïve rigidity. The Jedi themselves were great advocates of the value of history - that we should learn by the mistakes of the past - yet they failed so completely to do so themselves."

"They gave their lives defending something they believed in." Luke said, adamant.

Palpatine set his head to one side, allowing the defiance in order not to alienate the boy before he had made his point, "You would be surprised how many doubted. How many questioned the decisions of the Council. But they were locked into a course by their own inability to adapt when it became clear how flawed their tenets were. Those few who understood - who tried to amend their actions accordingly - the Jedi hunted them down. Persecuted their own kind for nothing more impertinent than asking' Why?'. How is that a crime?"

Luke glanced to the Emperor, pale eyes searching, "And that's the truth?"

The slightest smile traced Palpatine's thin lips- how wonderful that the boy would ask that of him; that he even asked it inferred that he was willing to accept the answer Palpatine gave... and there was the victory.

"That is the truth." Palpatine stated without doubt.

Luke tilted his head just slightly, "But there is no 'truth'- isn't that what you just said, Master? Everything is relative. Everything you tell me is simply a point of view."

They remained still for long seconds, steadfast blue eyes locked onto calculating yellow ochre- then Palpatine threw back his head and let out a grating laugh, amused and indulgent.

"You play this game too well, child," he allowed at last, "And here I thought you did not listen."

Luke glanced away, uncomfortable; he listened. He listened to refute, but he still listened. Somehow Palpatine had always held that influence over him. That was the problem- because sometimes, the arguments wouldn't come, and then... then just occasionally, something slipped past all Luke's denials and his contentions and it lodged in his thoughts and stuck fast. Did that mean... Force help him, did that mean he listened to the old man? Were acceptance and the inability to summon yet another coherent argument the same thing?

And was it all a waste of breath now anyway, all these endless arguments and petty semantics? Did his refusal to accept the fact that he had already fallen make it any less true? Or was it simply self-delusion- the worst of all possible lies.

The dour stillness of the grand, cavernous room crushed in on him, overwhelming. He hated this place; the vast, excessive extravagance of endless maze-like halls and countless sprawling enfilades sterile and soulless, isolating and restricting despite their imposing majesty. He hated this place- Palace, prison- call it what you would, the name meant nothing. He knew what it had done to him- what had been taken from him inside these towering walls. What had been stolen, ripped away like flesh from bone... and what had been lost, slipping through his fingers like dry desert sand.

The truth- the truth was that he had already fallen- he knew all that he had done and he could not call it any name but evil. He knew the power which cringed at his feet and leapt with impatient, impulsive agitation whenever he lifted his hand was Darkness; absolute, infinite, unrestrained power. And yet sometimes - when he meditated and reached instinctively beyond the hulking mass of writhing Darkness - he still sensed... Light. All around him, like an uplift of air, like a pure, perfect note which fired a resonant tone within his own soul. And he knew- he knew- that it too was part of him. He didn't even need to reach out to it; it was part of him.

When he listened to the secure confidence behind Palpatine's rasping, grating tones, he was so sure; so sure he held Luke. The undisputable certainty rolled out from him in waves, engulfing and suffocating, shaping reality; rolling over it regardless. Luke's own fragile faith felt pale and ghostlike by comparison, so battered and beaten for so long that these arguments were little more than a pointless game anymore; the motions they both went through out of blank, established familiarity. Even when Luke disagreed he still laughed; allowed the dissent because he knew how empty and automatic it really was. In a way that was worse; harder to fight than intimidation or pain.

He wanted to believe; wanted to believe that he still had some faith, some convictions- some principle, no matter how skewed. How broken and ragged. But if, in his heart of hearts, Luke believed he had fallen, then was it the truth... or was it simply two differing points of view; his and the Emperor's?

Which was right and which was wrong... and if everything, even truth, was subjective, then how could either be either? Or was that too just another delusion he allowed himself rather than face the truth?

He shook his head, lost.

Truly lost.

"Where did it all go wrong?" he murmured, bleakly into the darkness of the city's night, eyes on that distant horizon, the dull glow of the city burning it clear of a single star.

Though his voice had been no more than a whisper, Palpatine seemed to have heard, and answered, taking any opportunity to impose his will. "Nothing is wrong- except that you are still looking for bars to a cage which no longer exists, because you still want to believe that if you can find those bars, if you can break them down, you will finally be free." Palpatine rose and walked slowly over to Luke, resting pale, bone-thin fingers on the boy's shoulder, the gesture of empty reassurance masking his need to control- to possess. "You are already free, my friend. I told you once, long ago, that I would do anything to free you. I held true to that promise. That is why you are here today; you are exactly where you were always meant to be."

"The why does it feel so wrong?"

"That is in you, child," His voice was indulgent and condescending, like a teacher with a favored savant, "You project your own doubts onto the Force, when it has no such reservations. You are so determined to deny the truth, but destiny is a hard thing to fight. I did not make you Sith child. I only released that which was inside you already. You are your father's son and you despise him for that. That is your choice... but your heritage remains. The blood which runs through your veins is a constant. That is your strength- that is what I see when I look at you. Darkness and destiny. You think that you can renounce it; reject it, but this is the Force at its most basic- elemental. This is the power which turns the galaxy and even we cannot fight that. You think you are refusing me but you are fighting a far greater force... one that will not be denied."

.

.

.

CHAPTER SIX

.

.

The moment Luke arrived onboard the Peerless, he knew something was wrong. The moment his foot made contact with the deck, the shiver of warning ran up his spine through the Force, like being submersed in freezing water.

The Peerless had taken the opportunity afforded by its Commander's accession to Heir and his subsequent enforced stay on Coruscant to bring forward its intended visit to the Imperial shipyards at Kuat for the latest upgrades to navigation and atmospheric shields, bringing her up to par with the partially-constructed Invincible. When he had finally been given parmission to leave Coruscant, Luke had immediately set out to return to the upgraded Peerless onboard the Fury.

A full honour-guard of the 701st, the Heir's own regiment permanently attached to the Peerless, had been waiting in perfectly-lined ranks for his arrival, everyone onboard well aware of the mark of distinction which had been bestowed upon them by extension when their Commander-in-Chief had been named Heir. At two years old still the newest Super Star Destroyer in the fleet, , the SSD Peerless had become the pre-eminent vessel of the entire Imperial military; the flagship of the Heir to the Empire. Now she was slipping majestically from dock, her massive bulk dwarfing even the sprawling mass of the Kuat Drive Yards, the Fury and the Relentless forming her guard - as if she needed one.

In the main docking bay, surrounded by the bustle of official practice and parade procedures, Luke knew, awareness travelling up his body as surely and familiarly as the physical vibration of a starship in motion... something was very, very wrong. He paused, reaching out, spreading his senses thin to encompass the whole of the huge Super Star Destroyer- thousands of minds and intents and thoughts...

Already aboard, Mara had bowed and walked forward from the Command Staff to greet Skywalker as he stepped down the ramp, Reece close behind, but she had slowed to a halt as he froze. "What?"

"Shhh..." he intoned softly, manner distant and preoccupied.

Mara frowned, her own danger senses flaring in response as she glanced around. Skywalker remained absolutely still for a long time, eyes unfocused, head tilted just slightly, as if listening...

She too remained still, glancing back to Reece where he stood further up the ramp, his hand slipping casually behind his back to the compact blaster Mara knew he kept concealed there as his eyes roved the hangar.

Suddenly Skywalker set forward, jaw locked, eyes stormy.

Mara spun to keep up, "What's happening?"

"I need to go to the bridge."

"Wait- is there a problem?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" She felt that she was having a decidedly one-sided conversation here...

"I don't know yet."

As he walked through his staff, Luke glanced to Admiral Joss, who had been waiting with Mara, "Battle Stations. Full alert."