Into the Storm

Chapter 16

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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Luke came round slowly, his ears still ringing, his skin smarting from a hundred tiny cuts and grazes.

He was laid on a clean, white floor, wearing clean white clothes, arms and feet bare, a scarlet smudge marking the spot where his bleeding face and arm had touched the ground. He rolled over onto his back, the motion lighting fireworks in his vision.

"You broke the agreement," Palpatine said simply, sense boiling with barely-controlled anger.

Luke glanced to the side, to see the Emperor sat on a solitary chair in the bright, curved-wall cell, no other features in the empty room. He considered trying to sit up, but instead stayed on his back and brought his hand up to shield sensitive eyes from the unyielding light, his head already pounding.

"The pact was over. I no longer owe you anything." His words misted before him in the cold air, chill enough to make him shiver against it.

"The pact will end at dawn today--exactly twelve weeks after your companions were freed."

"The pact came into effect at dusk the night before that, when we first shook hands. When you freed your hostages was irrelevant," Luke said dismissively, though he was well aware of the knife-edge he was walking.

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The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his fury tempered by his pleasure at the boy's justification. Skywalker had not so much broken the rules as bent them to answer his needs...and that was why Palpatine would have him.

Rationalization of the methods necessary to achieve one's goals was the slow fall of many good men, his father included. He would be no different.

Already now he could see this new blade sharpening under the heat of pressure. See that edge forming, that heightening of his Jedi's mercurial temper, the hardening of his perceptions, the blurring of his precious principles.

That fascinating, gradual shift of perspective...

"I am not here to argue specifics with you," the Sith snapped finally.

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Luke spoke the line he had waited twelve long weeks to say, knowing there would be a penalty...but then a price would be paid one way or another tonight, anyway. "Then shut up."

The reply was instant. No warnings, no threats, no second chances. The Emperor lurched up--

Bolts of bright white energy surged from his hands like lightning, grounding into Luke to throw him back against the curved wall like a ragdoll, the impact sounding a resounding c-r-ack!' which jolted the air from his lungs--

For a second his vision whited out entirely, then his chest was heaving as he struggled to take in breath, tasting blood in his throat as he rolled over onto his knees, shocked at the suddenness and the violence of the attack, bending double to try to ease his breathing. Pain exploded through his chest with each breath and he knew the 'crack' had been ribs breaking. He'd never even heard of such a corruption of the Force, let alone had any idea of how to counter it

"That was a very, very foolish thing to do," Palpatine said, voice afire. "I gave you every chance--every opportunity to step gracefully into your future role--but you refused them all. Surely you realized that it would come to this? My patience is not infinite."

Luke heaved a breath, mind still reeling at what Palpatine had just done.

"Nor is mine," he gasped without conscious thought, surprised at his own words, at the threat implicit within them.

The second bolt came immediately, slamming him back into the wall, his head hitting hard enough to knock reality into a slow loop as sound muffled and sight grew dim. Then the pain stabbing into his chest shocked him awake again and he crumpled forward, struggling for air in short sharp gasps.

He saw blood speckle the floor as he rasped a breath out, his winded lungs beginning to cramp with the effort, shocked muscles contradicting each other so that his chest froze--

Then another bolt, with no time to brace against it, no time to gather mental defenses.

And another.

Everything was pain; white light which seared his eyes, heat blazing through him so intensely that his muscles cramped and his lungs paralyzed. No time, no awareness, only torment so profound that everything else was scorched away.

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Palpatine attacked without mercy, without restraint, wild fury at the boy's continued willful resistance driving him to a vindictive rage.

He drew every dark frustration to him and threw them at Skywalker with devastating strength, incensed rage given physical power as sharp arcs of light hurled at the boy, coursing over him to ground. Fury that lashed and slashed at him until he cried out, but the Sith only watched him bleed. Bones pushed with incredible slow, deliberate, Dark power until they popped and splintered. Until his Jedi no longer made any noise at all, just the silent outrush of air as the relentless blows made contact, all strength and spirit beaten out of him...

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In the long silence that followed, the sound of the boy's labored breathing reverberated around the empty room, the metallic smell of burned air and seared flesh hanging heavy.

"Never think to threaten me," Palpatine hissed with absolute finality. "Never."

He remained still for long minutes, watching the boy drift in and out of consciousness before, finally satiated, he moved to crouch beside him, head tilted to one side as he studied with silent, detached fascination.

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Slowly surfacing from this excruciating agony, the metallic tang of warm blood in his mouth, Luke opened burning eyes to see Palpatine stretching out a hand for him--gently, almost; compassionately.

If he could have, Luke would have twisted away. As it was, he could barely stay conscious as the Sith took his head and turned it easily toward him, his voice calm and cold and deadly.

"I offered you everything and you turned it down. But I see now that the mistake was mine, in not clarifying the alternative. In not illustrating to you the consequences of defiance. I have been too lenient; allowed too much free thought, too much free will. I shall endeavor to correct that. You have spent your favor now, child. You have spent your choices. From now on, every decision you make will carry a consequence. Every word you utter. Choose them with care, as I will choose my redress."

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Palpatine rose in a rustle of raven robes and walked to the door, arranging a veneer of self-restraint and civilized calm about himself as it cycled open. Pausing, he turned to the man huddled half-conscious in the corner of the empty cell. "No more games."

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Han sat nursing his third drink of the morning, listening to the buzz of the Third Strike cantina, and trying very hard to ignore the feeling in his gut.

Something was wrong.

Luke hadn't arrived yet. He should have been here this morning. He should have fixed the comm on the Falcon. They should have landed somewhere back in the Capital so they could've gotten out of there together in the first place.

He'd already been to see Karrick--twice. He'd wandered the docking bays on all three linked islands--not that they were actually islands, of course. In reality the Tyren Islands were a group of three massive habitation platforms atop a trio of towering industrial factories, originally given over to low-budget housing but as often happened in such areas, slowly taken over by less scrupulous tenants. It was here he'd sat in the Third Strike cantina and waited...and waited.

He ran through his memory again--he was sure he'd said the Third Strike--sure. And the kid was careful--he'd grown up on a pretty inhospitable planet where people didn't take chances. With no way to contact each-other, he'd follow the plan as agreed and he'd check in as soon as he got here. And if he couldn't...he'd sure as hell find a way to let Han know, if only in the amount of trouble he caused when they captured him, so that everyone was talking about it.

Something was wrong.

He'd sent out a short call on the emergency frequency late last night, leaving only a comm sign of his own, knowing that the Alliance would contact him. It was standard Alliance operating procedure: no names, no places, just a contact reference and an active code number.

He'd figured by the time that Luke got here, they'd already have contacted him in reply. Figured he'd barter that flashy little skimmer he'd flown here in for parts for the Falcon, then they'd fix the old bird and blast off this high-class rock, not a moment too soon. In fact he should...

He interrupted his own thought, gut twisting again: skimmer. He'd barter the skimmer...

A stray memory had cut in, of Luke's words yesterday.

"Do you have your skimmer's call-sign? Actually, don't say that on the open comm."

"Your skimmer's call-sign..."

Idiot! Han upbraided himself. Why didn't you spot it?

How could Luke know that? How did he know Han had stolen a skimmer? Han hadn't mentioned it--not once. There were all kinds of speeders and skiprays and shuttles in that hangar--how could the kid know he'd taken a skimmer if he hadn't still been watching on security images?

Which meant he'd still been in the ops room he claimed he'd abandoned...which meant that he hadn't been anywhere near the docking bay or the Falcon, or any chance of escape.

Han's mind raced now, pulling the pieces together, remembering other snippets of conversation--

"Do you remember that safe harbor... Meet there?"

Meet there how? Han had never given Luke the actual co-ordinates of the Tyren Islands. He'd never given them.He shook his head, sighing out frustration and dismay as realization of what the kid had done began to seep through.

"You should have gotten yourself out," Han murmured quietly, knowing why the kid had played it that way, but desperately wishing he hadn't.

He was still staring blankly at the table when his comlink sounded.

For a split-second, he thought it was Luke--thought he'd been wrong about everything and the Falcon had just limped into port somewhere nearby, battered and broken and a little worse for wear, just like its pilot. But still in one piece--and here.

He wrenched it from his belt. "Yeah!"

"Sir, we received a comm on this line. Could you identify yourself, please?"

Han felt himself slump again, hope evaporating. "My ID's 77285. I'm attached Unit one-oh-nine. I need a pickup and a channel through to Home Oneas soon as possible."

"Stand by, sir. We're confirming that ID."

Han waited, mind already beginning to work again...

This was okay, he could make this work. He'd get back to the Rebel base, pick up a few commandos...he could be back here within a week or so. He knew the Palace layout, he had Luke's probable location... Yeah, that would work. Even if the bigwigs thought it was unfeasible, which they probably would, then Han could rustle up a healthy contingent among the kid's friends to make a raiding party. Luke often piloted undercover missions for Madine's Special Ops, and they didn't mess around. Kid was pretty popular; Han'd have a good choice of able bodies...

"Hang on, Luke," he muttered, worried what reprisals the kid might be facing now. "Hang on."

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"And how are you today, my friend?"

The easy, amicable words floated through a haze of vague awareness as Luke came round slowly, a shock of pain jolting through him as he tried to move his head towards the voice, aware that he was lying on the freezing floor where he'd fallen yesterday.

He didn't bother trying to answer.

Instead, he forced his eyes into focus in the dim light of the room, unsure why it was so dark, his senses thrown off by the constant curve which gave no delineation between the walls and ceiling, the cell a perfect half-sphere. Vaguely, looming over him, he could make out the towering form of Palpatine, dark, vermillion red robes whispering against Luke's face, so close did he stand.

All he knew--all he knew in the whole of creation--was that he had to close his eyes and rest. His left arm and his right ankle stabbed sharply with every heartbeat, arm broken near the wrist, fingers burning from the same. He blinked slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, the Sith was somehow several paces back, sitting on the chair, watching him.

Luke took in a sharp breath, which sent another jolt of pain through his tight chest. How long had he closed his eyes? He had no idea--none at all.

"You have used a healing trance," the Emperor observed dispassionately, igniting foggy memories in Luke of waking in the darkness hours ago and summoning all his strength to guide his mind to meditation.

Master Yoda had always spent so much time drilling into him the ability to do this anywhere under any circumstances; he'd seen the vision of Cloud City whilst balancing upside down on his hands, arms aching and head pounding from maintaining the unnatural position for so long. Now, finally, he understood why: understood the importance of being able to summon that mindset without conscious effort, to create that connection with the Force instinctively--a lesson he wished he'd not had to learn.

"This is unacceptable," the Sith stated levelly as if it were a statement of fact. "It will not happen again."

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Palpatine had woken in the early hours of the morning, the strident, discordant timbre of the Light side of the Force grating against the Darkness which he had wrapped about himself for so long, knowing that it could be no other than the boy, and it was immediately obvious what he was doing. There was little premeditated awareness, but the control was accurate and precise--flawless. Perfect attunement, even then...one had to appreciate that.

It was, of course, quite unacceptable; it slowed the course of Palpatine's intentions, and as such was to be dealt with ruthlessly. "If you do it again then I will simply injure you further...and further, until you are no longer capable of healing."

The boy didn't react; didn't move at all, remaining on his back, broken arm cradled across his stomach, breathing so heavily that from his chair several feet away, Palpatine could see the beat of his heart against his ribs; hear it catching in his breath.

He had every intention of taking his Jedi down that shadowed, arduous route anyway, but it was important that the boy felt he had no control, particularly in his connection with the Force--and of course the drug which Palpatine had invested so much in having developed would now come into its own.

DNA-specific drugs were commonplace, as were self-replicating drugs, but this one, capable of maintaining a constant chemical level in the body even against a Jedi's midichlorian-laden blood, had been two years in the making. Ironically, Palpatine had first supplied his chemists with a sample of Vader's blood, for the sole reason that he hadn't wished to supply his own, and the blood of a Force-sensitive was necessary in order for them to learn how to deal with midichlorian content. But with the boy's identity came the realization that the samples his chemists had been working with, would already be conveniently close to the required formula.

Such ironies always made life interesting...but it was challenges like this which made it truly compelling.

The drug would enable Palpatine to ensure that the boy had no access to his precious Force unless Palpatine allowed it, his mind too diffuse. It guaranteed specific, precise levels; enough to render him sedated beyond conscious thought if Palpatine were not here, or merely sluggish and listless before his persecutor, disoriented and passive, as he was now.

"Sit up," Palpatine ordered, and despite the drugs, he was unsurprised when the boy ignored him. Pleased, even, in some self-indulgent way.

He set his head to one side, studying the still form before him. Already the featureless white tank vest the boy wore was stained by uneven smears of dry brown blood, his bare arms and shoulders scuffed, face grazed, nose bloody.

Now, today, the game began. The true game, mind against mind, will against will, nothing hidden, nothing held back, anything and everything justified.

How long would he last? Days? A week even?

How long before the fight was beaten out of him, leaving only that wonderfully stubborn, willful drive to endure--to survive--and Palpatine could reach within that stormy mind and twist it...watch it snap.

The boy turned, perhaps sensing some shadow of that eager craving, and Palpatine allowed a thin, impious smile to his bloodless lips; let the game begin.

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Yellow eyes came to pale blue as Luke turned, sensing some inverted twist of Darkness, and abruptly the Sith's full attention focused on him. A burst of confined energy sang out through the Force like a knife-edge, making Luke flinch in anticipation--

But it wasn't directed at him; was only some benign order aimed elsewhere, and he breathed again, though he didn't relax.

Mara, he realized--Mara's outside the cell.

The door cycled open and two guards entering in heavy, meaningful strides. It was only when he continued to stare at the door, waiting for Mara to enter, that Luke noticed that the corridor beyond was also dark...and it finally permeated through his tired mind that the dull shade was in his eyes and not the cell.

Strong hands grabbed him beneath his arms and hauled him upright, lighting a bright trail of pain through screaming muscles and making him gasp as his broken ankle grated nauseatingly, bone against bone, his breath misting in the cold air.

He was dropped down onto a second chair, which was scraped across the blood-stained floor to be pushed up against a table opposite Palpatine, who watched with cold, intent eyes.

The guards marched from the cell, leaving the two alone again.

Luke slumped, head weaving slightly as bouts of shivering tensed tired muscles, wanting nothing more than to lay back on the cold, hard floor and sleep. He looked down to the table, to his bruised, bloody hand resting there, gazing for long seconds before realizing that his hands were bound together by a long, thin wire, looped around each wrist and re-fused back into itself.

He stared with faltering concentration at the wire, remembering seeing it before, though he couldn't begin to bring back the memory of when...

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The Emperor sat in watchful silence, waiting for his Jedi to come round.

"You should realize," he said at last, "that what I did to you yesterday, I will do again today."

The boy looked up at that and Palpatine paused, giving him time to consider this before pressing forward. He expected neither reply nor acknowledgement, just understanding, and he saw that in those dull, wary eyes.

"As soon as you defy me, I will deliver retribution. Remember my warning--think very carefully about your actions. You know I will not hesitate."

Though the words spoken were calm and moderate, the threat contained within them clearly pushed a surge of adrenaline through the boy, who widened his eyes, visibly forcing himself awake.

Comfortable that he had the boy's attention now, Palpatine settled back again, eyes never leaving his Jedi.

"We should, I believe, clarify our positions. You see, you are not the first Jedi I have broken..." He grinned. "Though, all things considered, I think we can safely say you will be the last."

He let his smile fall away, leaving that cold, hard, pitiless stare. "But you should know I have broken others just as resolute and just as committed as you. I have never failed. I am very good at this. It is my forte, my fascination, my passion...an indulgence which I allow myself."

He paused for long seconds, eyes shining in the low light, attention focused completely on his captive, sensing the twist of persecuted apprehension tingling down his Jedi's spine. Slowly, contentedly, he let out a lingering breath, his eyes narrowing, his voice settling back into a calm, detached state--though not one whit less dangerous.

"But because of your father--because he has served me well without this necessity, then I am willing to give you one final chance to do the same. His loyalty, and nothing else, has bought you this opportunity. But I want you to understand that this is your final chance. I want you to understand just exactly what is at stake.

"You can either remain here, like this, day on day, to be ground slowly away, broken down one beating after another until all that is left are these walls, my will and your failing, faltering resolve...or you can walk from here now, today. You can end this ill-conceived, delusive, futile opposition and answer the question I am about to ask of you. If you do this, that door will open and you will return to your quarters, obey my commands, explicit and implicit, build for yourself the future for which you were destined...and think yourself very, very fortunate. Those are your choices now--you will obey, or I will make you obey. Either way, you willyield. That is not open to interpretation. It will happen... Do you understand?"

Staring at his own battered hands, head down, expression neutral, the boy said nothing, neither denial nor acceptance.

Palpatine settled back again, giving him time to consider. Then... "I am looking for someone. And only you know where he is..."

Again, he allowed the silence to hang heavy between them, knowing that his Jedi already knew the question he would now ask. It was the absolute test of allegiance, a choice that had to be made. There could be no vacillating, no ambiguity. The boy either answered, or chose not to answer--which was an answer in itself.

"Tell me...where is Master Yoda?"

Skywalker hesitated for a fraction of a second before he shook his head, slowly but very deliberately. But he hesitated, Palpatine saw.

"Are you very sure? Are you surethat this will be your answer? Think carefully--ask yourself why it matters to you. He betrayed you. He lied to you, he manipulated you, and he used you. You are protecting a creature who intended to send you to fight a duel which would result in your unknowingly killing your own father--a creature who considered you tainted before you were even born. Why are you protecting him?"

The boy only stared at his own broken fingers, hooded eyes blinking slowly.

"I ask for just one word. A place--a planet--tell me this, and you need do nothing more. Your involvement is done. No one will ever know outside of this room. I offer this without condition, without dishonor."

Palpatine reached forward to take the fine wire cable which bound his Jedi's hands, pulling it towards himself across the table and bringing the boy's hands with it, his shoulders falling forward without resistance as he pulled in a sharp breath, eyes on his broken wrist.

"I am offering you an opportunity, my friend--the possibility of walking from this cell whilst you are still capable. It will not be offered again, believe me. You are at the very brink of your physical limits, and you know it. Don't sacrifice yourself out of stubbornness or blind, misplaced loyalty. Consider what you are about to do. Consider what I am offering you. Consider the alternative."

Still the boy did not move, body tensed against the offer.

"A single word will buy your freedom from this cell. From this sentence."

Finally Skywalker lifted his head to meet Palpatine's eyes. "And from you?"

The Sith smiled and released his hold on the binders and settled back. When he spoke, his voice was amused and indulgent. "A single word will buy you a great deal, my friend. But not that--not yet. But it will buy trust."

"I don't think you're capable of that."

The Emperor stared at the boy who met his eyes evenly, though Palpatine could see the barely perceptible sway of his head as he fought the dull drag of drugs and injury. Stubborn little creature that he was though, he would not blink under Palpatine's hard gaze.

Foolish--reckless, to defy on such an unimportant thing, when he knew what the repercussions would be.

The Jedi shook his head, adamant against Palpatine's demanding stare. "I won't tell you where he is."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed as he reached out through the Force to read that headstrong mind, knowing that if Yoda was in his thoughts in this moment, then his location must be too. But the boy gathered what control he still had, head tilting slightly at the effort, the barrier effectively blocking entry to hold Palpatine at bay.

They remained locked in silent opposition for several seconds, the air charged in sympathetic resonance...

Abruptly, Palpatine rose, turning away to walk quickly into the shadows of the small room as the boy flinched slightly.

He spoke without turning, his face hidden by the hood of his heavy cloak, so that his disembodied voice came from the shadows within. "Do you truly believe that you can stop me?"

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Luke hesitated, keenly aware of his fatigue and his injuries...but again, he just couldn't help but meet the confrontation head-on. "I believe that if you could take the information by force, you would have done so by now."

It wasn't spoken as a challenge, but he knew Palpatine would allow no perception of weakness or equality--not here. The Sith turned, his half-lit face pale in the low light, harsh shadows on sallow skin. "The time for games is over."

Luke sensed the static build in the air, the inrush of power making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Adrenaline pumped his heart hard against his ribs, muscles tensing against the invisible threat, fingers tightening about the wire which bound them, breath coming shorter. But he would not back down--not to this.

Lowering his face, looking straight ahead, he took several shallow breaths, aware that Palpatine was waiting...daring him. Knowing the consequences... "I thought we were no longer playing gam..."

His words were lost against the bright burst of kinetic energy which drove the air from his lungs with more power than any physical blow could muster, throwing him bodily from the chair to land in a crumpled heap several feet away, gasping for breath, curled up defensively, for all the good it did him.

In the silence that followed, the chair toppled to its side, loud against the hard floor.

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Palpatine watched, emotionless, as the boy struggled to breathe around the blow, unable to do more in that moment.

"Where is Master Yoda?" he said simply, his hands rising again toward the boy, who gasped in pain, clutching at his ribs, eyes closed.

Without hesitation, Palpatine threw the Force lightening again, hurling him back, making him cry out.

"Where is Master Yoda?" he repeated, hands remaining pointed at the boy, infused with a blue-white corona of contained power.

He gave his Jedi several seconds to be sure that he had understood, then threw the lightening at him again, pitching him back against the far wall, his cry ending abruptly as his breath left him.

Calmly allowing his hands to drop, Palpatine walked to the struggling youth, whose breath rasped laboriously, the thought of resisting, of defending himself in any way, completely beyond him. Palpatine crouched down before the boy, lifting his head as he heaved in breath, his nose bloody, the skin of his face grazed raw against the floor, old wounds made new again.

When he spoke, his voice was mild and quiet and absolutely without pity. "Where is Master Yoda, child?"

The boy closed his eyes, looked away. Gently, Palpatine placed his hand against that heaving chest, using his other hand on the boy's jaw to hold his head up. "Where?"

The shock jolted the Jedi's muscles into spasm, throwing his head back in agony so that he cried out, the sharp actinic light momentarily creating bright daylight in the darkened cell, focused energy searing the frigid air with the sharp, metallic smell of raw power.

When he stopped the boy slumped, barely conscious now, breathing heavily against the pain. Again Palpatine lifted his head. "Where is Master Yoda?"

He brought his hands to Skywalker's face, half-smiling as the boy gasped breathlessly, gratified at his obstinacy, amazed that he held fast against this. Clamping his palms over burnt, blood-streaked cheeks in preparation to deliver another strike, he rested his thumbs over the boy's eyes as they flickered shut, the corona about them brightening and strengthening...

"Nnn--" It was not quite an entreaty that Skywalker clamped down on, but one more shock would have rendered him unconscious anyway, so Palpatine paused, allowing the energy to dissipate with only the mildest shock, which the boy still flinched violently against, breath hitching in anticipation.

"No?...no? Does your resolve crack so easily, that you ask for mercy already? How weak you are, child."

The truth was that the boy would not yet provide him with the information, so Palpatine chose not to ask again, rather than allow him this victory. Chose instead to twist the moment to make his Jedi believe he had failed. So he reached out to wipe at the blood which was flowing over his split lips, his empty gesture unopposed as he leaned in close to whisper against the boy's grazed and bleeding skin, "How fragile you are, Jedi. How easily you give over control. You have the power to stop this and you know it. It's within you...it most surely howls, like a wolf in the darkness. You say you want freedom, yet you refuse the one thing which can grant you the power to take it. I am not your enemy child, I am your savior...and I will do whatever it takes to drag you from their control, to drive you to enlightenment."

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Luke heard the words only distantly, diffused by the cloud of intense, debilitating pain which dragged at his failing senses, demanding that he close his eyes and drift to inviting oblivion as he struggled to breathe through the ache in his ribs.

The heavy, grating double-retort of the opening door vibrated through the cold white floor into his body, igniting a new burst of pain which took his breath away as his tormentor leaned closer to brush Luke's scoured cheek, nails against raw skin as he murmured, "One day, you will thank me for this."

Vaguely, the world on its side, Luke saw the hazy image of Mara Jade enter the room, pausing to bow reverentially to the Emperor as he stood, the heavy folds of his blood-red cloak blocking out Luke's vision.

"Drug him," Palpatine said simply as he walked away, the scarlet cloak whispering a trail across the floor behind him.

Mara came closer to crouch into his field of vision, her green eyes momentarily registering... what? His pain-wracked mind couldn't decipher anything in that moment. She turned to glance at the Emperor, but he was already at the door, blurring to nothing in Luke's dimming vision.

He felt her take his broken arm and roll him onto his side in an intense burst of agony which whited out his vision, coursing from ankle and wrist again and again, though he was unable to cry out.

She lay his unresisting head against his arm so that he wouldn't choke, then rested the small case she carried on the bare floor to load up the syringe. Any thought of resisting was already hazing into darkness as he felt the sharp jab in his vein, almost too small to register against greater injuries.

His muscles relaxed into heavy submission against the power of the drug and his last memory was of her face, eyes strangely intent on his own, her hand reaching hesitantly out to him...

Then the darkness enveloped him, his own ragged breathing loud in his failing awareness.

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Palpatine walked away without looking back, content at the outcome of this encounter--that he had once again been able to establish his dominance over his Jedi, been able to push him a little closer to that edge. True, he had not gained the whereabouts of Master Yoda, but that was, like the diminutive Jedi Master himself, little more than a minor annoyance. More importantly, it had provided him with a context with which to exemplify his own resolve, to make clear to the boy what his life would be from now on, since he had chosen to continue along this foolhardy path.

Everything held a price, and from now on the boy would learn this. Any refusal, any resistance would be met with absolute, unyielding force.

Whether Palpatine had gained Yoda's hiding place or not was immaterial--well, perhaps not quite that. Perhaps...

Palpatine smiled. Yes...yes, the final punishment for this particular defiance would be a while in coming, but would be all the more precious for it. When he had brought the boy to Darkness, when he controlled this new Sith completely, the boy would most surely tell him. Willingly. The Force had whispered of such. And the first task he would set his new Sith would be to return to Yoda's hiding place, and destroy the Jedi Master himself.

Yes; in truth he already had the power to remove the troublesome Jedi Master--he lacked only the conviction. And Palpatine would provide that; his will, his word as law.

He laughed in gratified anticipation to no one but himself.

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To be continued...

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