Into the Storm

Chapter 17

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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Standing in the brooding, opulent grandeur of Korriban Hall, the looming ante-chamber to the Emperor's grand, sprawling apartments in the South Tower, Vader was well aware that Jade, the Emperor's Hand, watched him with narrowed eyes as he awaited his Master's convenience. He had arrived back on Imperial Center only hours ago, and he knew well that his Master would find some other task which would send him far away from here. He didn't want Vader near when he was dealing with his son--didn't want that complication.

And Vader was only too willing to oblige. To be here now was...uncomfortable. If the boy would just relent. He knew his Master, knew what he intended. Knew what he would do to gain it.

Staring out across the teeming, impersonal darkness of the city-planet, Vader willed his own insular composure, a heavy, familiar indifference which had always been both calming and smothering for decades now...until his son had arrived, firing old ambitions with an unanticipated twist.

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Mara seethed as she watched this hulking brute standing in silent meditation, unaffected by her scornful glare.

How could he be here, now? How could he stand so calm and unmoved when he knew what was happening to his own son?

When she had been called down to the detention level just hours after the expiry of the twelve-week agreement which had held Skywalker to an uneasy truce, Mara had known that Palpatine would have been livid. Had known that his fury would have been directed at Skywalker.

Not because he had defied Palpatine, but because he had succeeded so effortlessly.

But she hadn't been prepared for his injuries. She should have been. Knowing her master as she did, she should have been, but this...this had affected her in ways she hadn't anticipated. Ways she was finding it harder and harder to ignore.

She couldn't leave it alone--she had to speak. "Will you be visiting your son, Lord Vader?"

"No," he replied without turning.

"How convenient," Mara murmured, turning away.

Vader rounded on her, his venom laced growl taking her by surprise in its intensity. "You know nothing of this!"

Shocked as she was, Mara wasn't intimidated. Her position afforded her protection even from Vader, and though she didn't think she could take him in a fair fight, she had never fought fair in her life. Either physically, or with words...

"But I do know the Emperor, and I know what he'll do. As do you."

But if Mara wasn't above taking unfair advantage, then Vader was all too ready to follow suit. "And why would you care?"

That reduced her to silence for long seconds, having no legitimate reply. Eventually Vader turned away, the conversation finished as far as he was concerned. As far as Mara was concerned, she was only just warming up.

"I doubt he would recognize you now, anyway."

Oh, that was a body-blow. She had the satisfaction of seeing him stiffen at her barbed words, so casually uttered. For long seconds he stared at her, but just as she thought he might actually show some speck of human compassion for his son he turned away again, his voice stony.

"If he had done as I had said, I could have protected him. I would have brought him here a Sith, given him the power to face any enemy."

All her anger and frustration boiled over at that unaffected rebuff. "For you. To remove for you the last impediment to your rise to power. The only thing which you hadn't the strength or resolve to remove yourself."

"Have a care," Vader growled as he turned to step close, towering over her. "You are not nearly as far beyond my reach as you believe."

"Nor you mine," Mara assured, willing herself to stand her ground in the face of that looming threat. "I know what you want--what you've always wanted."

"I serve my Master," he said, bass tones rumbling through her chest.

Mara raised her chin. "To what end?"

"To whatever end he desires."

The lie came easily, Mara knew--he had spoken it so many times perhaps he even believed it himself. "And the life of your son doesn't factor into that?" She knew him so well--knew exactly how to provoke him, how to bring down his guard, as she did now.

"You could not possibly understand. This is his destiny. He will become more powerful than any Jedi--any Sith. More powerful than the Emperor."

Mara tilted her head. "That's treason."

"It is destiny. Even the Emperor bows to that. Even Luke must, eventually. He could no more escape it than--"

"There's no such thing as destiny, we make our own. Don't try to validate your actions."

"Did he make this destiny? Is it by choice that he is here today?" Vader snapped, silencing her. "Do you think I wanted to see him hurt?"

That last threw Mara--the frustration in his voice, the subtle vein of repressed unease. It tempered her own voice in reply, though she couldn't hide the challenge. "You brought him here, to the Emperor."

Vader turned away, all emotion reined in again. "If he does as he is ordered, then no harm will come to him."

"You know he won't do that." Mara stepped back into the Dark Lord's range of vision, demanding attention. "I know he won't do that and I'm only a bystander. How can you not!?"

"He will do as he is told, eventually," Vader said dispassionately. And Mara knew he was right...but she knew the cost.

"Yes, he will. Whatever the Emperor molds him into he will be," she allowed, the words contained within a long sigh of absolute certainty. "But it won't be Luke Skywalker, no any more. Luke Skywalker will be long gone, driven out to make room for the Emperor's new Sith."

Vader turned incrementally at this, though Mara had no idea if he was looking at her or not, behind that obsidian mask. No idea if he felt anything at all on hearing the truth in her words--neither guilt nor compassion nor loss.

No idea why she did.

The silence hung heavy, long minutes timed out by Vader's labored breathing...

"Destiny demands a price," he rumbled at last.

Mara slumped, her own voice dull, laced with defeat at the realization. "You'll let Palpatine destroy him, won't you?"

"The Emperor will give him everything." Vader's voice was a study of restrained logic. "Power, authority, status."

"And the fact that he doesn't want those things doesn't figure at all, huh?"

"He should want them."

"Why? Because you do?"

That brought his head around. "Because it is his right."

"His right? Have you seen him," Mara blurted out. "Do you have any concept of what he's going through--what rights he's had taken from him?"

Vader only turned away in dispassionate, willful denial.

"You have no idea what Palpatine..." She broke off, unable to accuse her master despite her knowledge. Despite the fact that when she closed her eyes, it was Skywalker who she saw, battered and beaten. Skywalker for whom she felt a creeping empathy regardless of her every conscious rebuff; his sense in the Force that assaulted her dreams, fragmented and tormented, lost and alone.

"It is worth the price," Vader said evenly. "He will understand that one day. This is a necessary evil."

"For what?"

"That he may serve... become worthy in the Emperor's eyes. Inherit that which he deserves."

And there it was. Vader wanted for his son the one thing he knew he himself would never have: the Empire. And that ambition blinded him to all other concerns--even this.

Palpatine believed that Vader had already tried unsuccessfully to turn his son to his own cause, Mara knew. Failing that, he seemed to have a new goal--to attain through his son all the ambitions that he could not himself fulfill. It was hardly a new concept--Mara had seen many times the outrageous extremes which over-zealous parents pushed their children to, in an effort to gain them eminence in her master's Court. But this was contemptible even by their standards.

How far is too far? He must feel something for his son in order to want this for him. If he saw him...A momentary spark of hope flared in her chest.

"You should see him," she murmured quietly.

Again the Dark Lord hesitated for a long time, then, "That is not necessary."

Coward.She was frustrated as much by her own spineless, impotent inability to act as she was by Vader's.

"I hope you realize how high that price is--for your son and yourself. Or do you seriously think you'll stay in favor now?" Vader turned at that, and Mara felt a cruel smile form unbidden on her lips. "You're the old model, Lord Vader. Yesterday's vogue. Dispensable. Your son may well come to the throne, but you'll never see it."

The high double doors of Palpatine's private quarters swung open to a long row of scarlet Royal Guard who lined the main hallway beyond as Cordo, the Emperor's aide, gestured expectantly.

Mara bowed with mock courtesy. "The Emperor will see you...for now."

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She wasn't surprised to hear that Lord Vader left within the hour for his fleet in the Rim Worlds, immediately on taking his leave of the Emperor...

He didn't try to see his son.

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Han sat on the poky little light freighter heading back to the Rebel fleet, mourning his loss of the Falcon, wondering where she was now and how he could get her back.

She was his first true love--well, maybe not his first, but she'd stayed with him the longest...and he sure as hell had spent the most credits on her.

And all his gear was on her.... He sighed, rolling his eyes. Chewie's bowcasters were onboard--both of them. The Wook was gonna kill him. He pulled another face, realizing that his range rifle was onboard too--and his holdout.

"Man..." he moaned aloud in frustration.

The Iridonian pilot in the seat next to him glanced over, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Ah, I just realized that all my stuff's on the Falcon--my ship. The Empire've impounded it."

The woman dropped her head to one side, shaking it in consolation. "Say goodbye to that, friend."

She was young, maybe the same age as Luke or Leia, Han figured, with olive skin and big, dark eyes, her hair pulled back into a bound tail at the nape of her neck, the multiple short, blunt horns on her head still little more than bumps.

Han glanced out to the starfield before him, feeling strange not to be the one calculating the next jump--not to be in the Falcon. "No, not that old girl--she's a homing bird, I'll get her back. Besides, I've got to--my partner'll kill me."

"I'm sure you can take care of yourself," the girl said, amused.

"He's a Wookiee," Han said pointedly.

"Oh, well, maybe not." She grinned then, as if this confirmed her suspicion, added, "So I guess you are Han Solo then?"

Han had introduced himself just by his first name when they'd met in the docking bay, and the woman had done the same--Astrig.

She'd patched him through on a secure holo-channel to Home Onealmost as soon as they'd cleared the atmosphere, telling him she'd been instructed to do so then leaving him alone in the cockpit.

He'd spoken to Leia--just for a minute and she'd seemed kinda...strained--but they'd spoken, and damn, it was good to see her again, even like this. She'd smiled and they'd gone through the pleasantries; 'you've lost weight,' 'yeah, prison food does that to you. You look good though,' 'Me? This old thing?' 'Chewie okay?' 'He's fine, he's been helping out the techs--or terrorizing them, depending on who you're listening to.'

Strangely, she'd not once mentioned Luke--not asked where he was or if Han had seen him; nothing. Then, at the end of the conversation, she'd asked him not to speak about Luke to anyone...nothing at all. Seemed pretty insistent. He'd wondered what the hell was going on, but let it pass, said okay. Maybe they had something lined up to get him out. Yeah, that was it; they already had something in mind, which would be why she hadn't mentioned the kid.

Han had wracked his head trying to think how not mentioning Luke could possibly help to get him out, but came up a blank. Didn't matter though, clearly something was in the offing, which was good to hear.

And since no-one had said he couldn't blow his own trumpet, he looked at Astrig now, grinning. "Yeah, I'm Solo," he said easily. "My reputation precedes me."

She snorted her amusement. "Yeah, something like that." Then her face fell serious. "Sorry about Skywalker."

Han glanced away, uncertain what to say having just been asked to say nothing.

Clearly everybody hadn't had the same order, because the pilot continued freely, "My brother flew with him a few times. Said he was a great pilot...great Flight Commander. A natural, he said--always kept his flight one step ahead, always looked for a different angle. Fast up here, you know?" She glanced up to Han as she said the last, grinning as she tapped her forehead. "Makes all the difference. My brother's in a B-Wing--Heavy Assault?"

She made it a question and Han nodded. "Yeah I know 'em. Good ships."

B-Wings were big, heavy fighters bristling with armaments and shields and designed to bring down prey ten times their size, even freighters and small frigates. When Han first joined the Imperial Fleet as a pilot, still optimistically looking to walk the straight and narrow, everyone flying everything from shuttles to bulk freighters and corvettes had been terrified of the Rebellion's new heavy-fighter, but the TIE's soon found their weakness; they were faster and more maneuverable than their intended prey, but way too slow to go up against a TIE or another snub-nose; the price you paid for carrying the kind of heavy armament that could pierce a corvette's hull. 'Target practice,' TIE pilots used to call them, if they didn't have faster support fighters running interference for them. Probably still did.

The young pilot nodded, obviously proud. "Been in it for three years now. Me, I'm waiting for a transfer to Gold Wing. Got my hours, got my wings, I just need a commission."

Han nodded easily. "A-4 or S-3?"

"S-3. I like company when I fly."

He nodded again, glad to be off the subject of Luke. "Yeah, I like a little bit more ship around me when I fly. Like to think they gotta shoot more bits off before they get to the pilot."

She shrugged easily, as sure of her own invulnerability as all fighter pilots were--you had to be, to be willing to get into a small metal box and launch into space on a regular basis, to let people take potshots at you.

"Thessy--my brother--said he went to the remembrance service after Hoth. Said a lot of people were pretty cut up about Commander Skywalker. Never met him myself, but...kinda wish I had, even once. Just to be able to say I met him, you know? The guy who took down the Death Star."

Han turned sharply to her, confused by how much her words sounded like a eulogy, but she didn't notice, and the nav computer chose that moment to pronounce its calculations complete.

"Jump's up," she announced, pulling the levers and launching the ship forward past the speed of light.

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By the time they arrived at Home One Han was burning to ask what the hell was going on. But when he stepped down the ramp onto the deck, Leia, Chewie and Lando were waiting, and everything else was forgotten, if only for a moment.

He took three big strides forward, gathering the princess up and planting a lingering kiss on those ruby lips. He'd promised himself he'd do that before anything else--figured it'd break the ice and anyway, if he didn't do it straight away, it may well be days before she'd let him near her again.

For a second, she leaned in to him, as eager as he was, then she pushed back, her hands to his chest, flustered and embarrassed all at once, big brown eyes glancing about the crowded flight deck.

"Ah, don't worry, sweetheart, I'm kissin' the Wookiee next," Han assured with a grin, turning to Chewie but keeping his arm to the small of her back.

"Chewie! How the hell are ya, you big rug?"

The Wookiee howled a welcome, arms above his head in pleasure.

Han leaned back slightly in mock consideration. "I swear you're gettin' bigger." He waited until the Wook paused in consideration, keening a query. "No, I meant around the stomach, pal."

Chewie whuffed good-naturedly, enveloping Solo in a bear-hug which took his breath away.

Finally, because he knew he'd have to sooner or later, he turned to Calrissian. "Lando," he said simply, face straight.

"Listen, Han..." Lando began, but Han cut him off, not ready to hear it.

"Don't even try yet, Lando. You dropped us all in big trouble, pal. Serious trouble. I can't just forget that--not yet. Not when Luke's still on Coruscant. He got us out, not you. He's payin' for your mistakes." By the time he'd said the last, Han had raised his hand, finger pointing to Calrissian's chest.

Leia stepped in. "Han, Lando got us off Cloud City. He broke us out."

"Yeah, and that worked out real good, didn't it?" Han said, eyes not leaving Calrissian.

It was Chewie, with years of experience of the pair of them, who broke up the moment with a long-winded series of barks.

Han held Lando's eyes for a second longer before turning to Chewie, anger diffusing. "Me? What are you asking me for? You're the last one who flew her--don't'cha remember where you left her?"

Chewie keened a long reply to the fact that he remembered exactly where he left her--and that was the problem.

"Ah, we'll get her back, somehow. Me, you and Luke'll go get her. It'll be a nice weekend out--kinda like a family outing."

Everyone fell silent at this, looking away, bringing an uneasy frown to Han's face.

"What?"

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"You know I just...I don't even have an answer to that," Han said, bewilderment and anger coloring his voice. "Has everyone gone crazy? Is there something in the recyc water?"

"I'm sorry." It was all Leia could think to say in that moment--not least because it was true. She'd taken him to her quarters to break the news, knowing how this would go.

"He's..." Han shook his head. "C'mon, Leia--you know he's not an Imperial. You've just seen what they went through to get hold of him."

"Intel think it was a show--that they were trying to keep his cover intact, in case they needed to re-integrate him into the Alliance."

"That's copishit and you know it." Han's voice was hardening now.

Leia wasn't surprised. Everyone who knew Luke went through the same run of emotions: surprise, denial, anger, frustration...but acceptance, eventually. The facts were too many and too damning to ignore.

Not that many people did know. It had been decided that the official line would remain that Commander Skywalker died in the battle of Hoth. The Imperial agent who had recently been uncovered would remain unnamed. Official line on that was that the agent--a tech--had managed to pull out when they'd discovered his identity in the retreat from Hoth. To link the two accomplished nothing, save to show that Alliance security could be breached to a Command level, and they could do without that kind of morale-killer, both in personnel terms and in terms of their reputation.

"Han, I know it's hard to..."

"Hard! I know that kid--better than most, it seems. I've known him since... How do you explain Tatooine, huh? What the hell was going on there? What was he even doing there in the first place?"

Leia sighed. "They needed the location of the Rebel base at Yavin, Han. They couldn't get it out of me under standard interrogation on the Death Star, so they sent Luke in with a convincing back-story. He even managed to get hooked up with a trusted Clone Wars General and reel him in, too. The Imperials must have picked up Artoo straight off the Tantive, then wiped his memory of the fact when they'd seen what he was carrying. I'd left everything they needed to set up that whole scenario in Artoo--Kenobi's name, his last known location. What better way to get me to trust an Imperial agent than have him turn up with General Kenobi? I led them to General Kenobi, and then back to Yavin Four. Because of Luke. Think about it, Han...who's the one person who didn't make it off the Death Star? Don't you think it's convenient that this plan just happened to require General Kenobi to board the Death Star, and that the one person they'd not want to let free again, just happened to be the one who didn't get off?"

"Didn't seem very convenient at the time," Han growled. "No, I don't buy this."

"Han, it's Luke's voice, on Luke's comlink."

"Voices can be faked," Han said.

"And then loaded onto Luke's comlink? When? Luke's container was locked--three techs were there when they blew the combination. Two weeks later the Bothans ID'd Luke as an Imperial agent based on his voice, on those comms, without knowing what we'd given them or where we'd gotten the voice fragment from. They didn't ID it as Luke Skywalker because for the first time, we'd asked them to run the recording through their Imperial Agents database. We got duped, Han. We all just got..."

"Well then, why the hell is he being held prisoner now?"

Leia shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know what they're doing. We have a few theories. I do know when I saw him, he wasn't being held anywhere."

"You saw him on Coruscant?"

Leia nodded tiredly. "Yes, I saw him, the day after we arrived. He was still unconscious. I think he'd woken up briefly and asked to see me."

"Where was he?"

Leia frowned, remembering. "He was in private apartments in the South Tower. His presumably...they looked lived-in."

"The massive one with the long entrance hall--it opened out to a crossroads with a big domed glass atrium in the middle?"

Leia blinked in surprise. "Yes."

"That's where they were holding him. The whole time I was there, he was never allowed out of three rooms at the end of one of the corridors in that apartment. There were guards everywhere."

Leia shook her head, voice softening at Han's dogged determination. "There were no guards when I saw him, Han. Just Luke. All the doors were open. How often did you see him?"

Han frowned, clearly knowing she'd call him on this. "Once a week--almost. I missed a few. No set days or times."

"For how long?"

"An hour maybe. Sometimes less."

Leia looked down, shaking her head. "It's not enough, Han. It's not enough to challenge all this." She indicated the still-bagged comlink she'd borrowed from Intelligence, the data-chips of the deciphered messages, the reams of hard-copy documents from the Bothans. "This is too..."

"Well then why the hell did he get me out?"

Leia looked up at him, deeply uncomfortable. "I need to scan you." She turned to take a battered plasteel medical box from just inside her door, taking out a hand-held scanner to charge it up, her voice level with a kind of forced calm. "Do you have any cuts, Han? Any injuries you can't account for?"

"You think they tagged me?"

She didn't speak, didn't meet his eyes, only stared at the scanner as she set its search perimeters.

"C'mon--there's no tag small enough to hide in a human body that has enough range to track me here."

"No, but one could transmit a shorter distance. If they wanted to find out if there was an Alliance safe-house on Coruscant, for instance."

Han frowned in silence, uneasy at her words, and Leia finally looked up. "Did you mention anything--any safe way to get off the Capital?"

"Not a safe-house--I didn't even know there was one on Coruscant. I said I knew a place we could hide 'till we got a pick-up from the emergency transmission, but it was a smuggler's place."

"The Tyren Islands." Leia nodded. "We've used them a few times. We can't anymore."

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Han stared in silence as the Princess kept her eyes on the scanner she was setting up, avoiding his eye. In the long silence, Han's mind recalled fragments of conversations with Luke. He'd never once mentioned the exact co-ordinates of the Tyrens...and when he'd escaped they'd magically given him a ship and a reason to fly to there. Their choice of ship...with any tracking devices they damn-well pleased aboard it, so they could stay nice and close. Close enough for a short-range tag to work if there was a booster on the ship he'd flown there in, so they could track him even if he left the skimmer.

In the hanger, hadn't Luke limited his choice of escape craft to two or three, though the hanger was full? He hadn't thought about it at the time--hadn't even considered it.

And where were all the stormtroopers? 'Cos they sure as hell weren't chasing Han when he was wandering through the Palace. He frowned, freshly uncertain...

"No," he said at last, shaking his head. "No, I know him. The kid's not that guy."

"Take your jacket off."

"Okay, why wait twelve weeks?" Han asked, shrugging his borrowed Rebel jacket off--he didn't even have any of his own clothes anymore.

Leia sighed, starting a slow sweep with the scanner. "You and I had been alone for weeks before Bespin--maybe they figured they could pump you for any information I'd given you in that time. Keep you talking, keep you trusting."

"If they wanted information, why didn't they do all this with you?"

"Because I already knew who he was, Han. They'd made a mistake that day, in taking me up to his apartments--in letting me see who he really was...what he was."

Han set his head on one side emphasis in her words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Leia sighed, stepping closer, pausing in her methodical sweep of Han's body with the sensor. "This is not common knowledge, and we intend to keep it that way. What I tell you is between you and me, understand?"

Han nodded, chest tensing...waiting for the next blow, he realized.

"You know Luke...sometimes did things. Unexplainable things. You know what his reflexes were like, how he played hunches..."

"I know he was...a Force-sensitive, a Jedi..." Han paused, still uncomfortable with saying these things out loud, "...whatever. Like Kenobi."

"No," Leia said, voice solemn. "Not at all like Kenobi."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Han heard the belligerent tone in his own voice.

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Looking into his eyes, seeing the outrage and offence and that dogged Corellian loyalty, Leia realized she had no idea how to say this--so she just said it. "He's Vader's son. We think Luke is Darth Vader's son."

Han didn't say anything--which was somehow worse than an explosion, to Leia.

"We haven't verified it, but then I think it would be pretty hard to do. Since it isn't already common knowledge, we assume they don't want it to get out. The Bothans are trying to get a DNA key of Vader's blood--we already have one of Luke's from our own records, but getting hold of one from Vader is proving difficult. We do know without a doubt that he's the son of a member of the Emperor's personal entourage. That comes from a separate, reliable source..."

"Who the hell said Luke was Vader's son?" Han growled, voice low.

Leia swallowed against her dry mouth, guilt still welling up inside her at this. "Me. I found it out when we were being held on Coruscant. Someone let it slip...I wasn't supposed to hear."

Han looked at her, eyes dark and stormy. "So you came back here and you told them."

It was an accusation of betrayal and she knew it.

"Yes," Leia said, her own voice rising, determined not to feel guilty about this. Luke was a spy--an Imperial agent. She owed him nothing.

She resumed her scan, turning him to smooth it over his back, listening to his voice, rough with anger.

"You'd better be damn sure 'cos even if it's true, this is the biggest load of..."

The scanner squealed momentarily and Leia pulled it back to a point just below and between Han's shoulder blades. It shrilled again--a positive trace. Han fell silent.

"It's medium range. A new type we haven't seen before. Compact, short life. Maybe four or five weeks before the power cell runs out. Chewie, Lando and I had them taken out when we got here. The Empire was supposedly taking us to Kessel," Leia said neutrally into his questioning eyes. "On Neimoidia, we thought we'd managed to break free and contacted the Alliance cell there, to pull us out. Less than an hour after we'd left Neimoidia the Empire did a big sweep--took down two of our three bases there. We lost about fifty people. The bases they hit were the two bases that Chewie, Lando and I had passed through."

She didn't look to Han as she said this, unable to meet his eye. He raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

"I can't do it--I'm not gonna do it.... I'm not gonna turn on him. You're wrong."

"What would it take to convince you, Han?" Leia asked, frustrated all over again simply at having to churn this up one more time. "Look at the facts! You won't believe it until you have Luke standing in front of you, telling you."

"Damn straight I won't. You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"Han, he was selling us out--he was never one of us in the first place!" She knew her voice had risen in response to his own, neither giving ground.

"You believe what the hell you want, Highness, but I know I'm right."

"Against all of this?!"

"Yeah, against that! You know why? 'Cos that's just extrapolation and after-the-fact guesswork, and he's worth more that all your precious Intel reports and anything the Bothans just happen to unearth all of a sudden, 'cos I know him. He's like a brother to..."

Han didn't finish, only swept his hand in a gesture of dismissal and stormed out.

Leia was left to stand alone in the room, lost in her own thoughts, until eventually there was a light knock at the door. Sighing, she lifted her hand to the wall panel and it slid open. Han still stood in the corridor, head on one side, expression a wry mix of chagrin and embarrassment.

"I don't have anywhere to go," he said quietly. "I don't have a ship anymore."

She smiled sadly, leading him back into her room. "We'll get you a bunk, flyboy."

"Not with Chewie," Han managed a lopsided smile as he followed her. "He snores like a cranky swoop motor."

Leia sighed, her momentary smile melting away as she shook her head, unable to look Han in the eye. "What do we do with this?" she said, asking of the argument rather than the facts. She didn't want to lose what had only just begun over this difference, and she didn't think Han did either.

He sighed, looking to the floor. "I dunno, Leia. I really don't. I guess we'll just wait and see."

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Palpatine watched the boy come round as Jade took her leave from the dimly-lit cell, bowing to her master, though he didn't bother to acknowledge it.

He was well aware of the conflicting emotions welling up in her, but confident that she would always do as he ordered. As such, it had become another minor entertainment, a diversion acted out for his own personal amusement. In the future, it would be twisted to serve his intentions, but for now it held little use other than to confirm that everything he wanted, even his most far-reaching goals, were attainable.

If he could make a Sith of his willful Jedi.

He watched dispassionately now, cold eyes appraising the boy as he struggled to wake against the drugs, broken arm clutched to him, splintered ankle bruised and swollen, face and body a mass of angry red welts and shallow cuts.

And yet he didn't yield. The boy was far better trained than Palpatine had expected--and certainly far more headstrong, tapping some as yet unbreached well of resolve, far too intractable to allow Palpatine a victory so easily, even with the drugs. But he was not yet beyond reach. And growing closer by the day.

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Aware of Palpatine's eyes on him, Luke rolled over to his back, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his ribs, the shooting shocks which still burned through bone and muscle alike, reminders of yesterday's confrontation.

Reminders that today's was yet to come. He slowly relaxed stiff, aching muscles, trying not to wince, though he knew it made no difference--Palpatine would know anyway.

Was this the way it would go now? Only ever woken to face his nemesis, so that from Luke's point of view, he faced his captor every waking hour, never any respite? Palpatine was looking to break him down, he knew--to chip at his resolve hour on hour, day on day, never any reprieve, never any time to gather his defenses. Never any time to heal--you know how this works, what he'll do...

In his already-fragile state, realization made Luke's heart flutter and his stomach churn, the split-second fear of a grinding decline into defeat looming, crushing in its consequences.

No. You will not give him victory this easily. If he wants control he'll have to drag it from you. You know how this works--how much is in the mind. Don't relinquish control.

He knew the game Palpatine was playing and what was at stake, though he had no idea how to counter it. No idea if it was even possible to do so...Luke broke the thought off by force of will, unwilling to think of the battle as already lost. Had his fa... had Vader faced exactly this choice once--this coercion? Ben had said he was a Jedi once.

Which begged the question--did he carry his father's weakness?

Or was Palpatine lying? If he was, then Luke couldn't detect the lie. But then the drugs kept his mind so still. Made it difficult to hold on to any thought.

He could call the Force to him and push them away, purge them from his system and clear his head momentarily, but he knew he couldn't sustain it, the self-replicating drug constantly pushing to regain the level it was designed to maintain, always persisting at the edge his consciousness, eager to crowd in. And every increment that it did, his hold on the Force was weakened, his concentration undermined, the precise, meticulous meditation required to heal himself shattered.

Luke focused his eyes again and dragged himself up to sitting, leaning against the wall to wait for the room to stop spinning...and realized that he was still watching the Emperor--that the Emperor was still watching him. That he was listening, intruding on Luke's private thoughts as if it were his right.

"It is," said Palpatine with absolute authority. "I told you, you are mine now."

A momentary flare of outrage ignited within him at Palpatine's words, burning past the drugs and the exhaustion. It gave him the focus to pull the Force to him, to construct a mental shield around his mind.

The Emperor's eyes narrowed, baleful stare hardening as his voice took on an edge. "Think carefully before you challenge me. I will stop you--you haven't the strength left to fight me."

For a second Luke hesitated, but his innate obstinacy kicked in again and fuelled his focus, so that he pushed Palpatine's hissing, malevolent presence from his mind, momentarily surprised by how easy it was--

The bolt of Force-lightening impacted against his chest, an incredible flare of blazing energy which threw his head back against the wall, its sustained burst lancing through him, locking his muscles and burning white-hot through body and mind alike....

When it finally stopped he collapsed forward with a gasp, though he made no other sound, grateful for the freezing cool of the blood-scuffed floor against his face. Vaguely, distantly, he was aware of Palpatine's push at his mind. Weakly, he pulled his thoughts back together into a shield--

He was flung back to impact against the wall behind him, the breath knocked from his lungs in a gasp as incredible pressure pushed in against them, holding them closed against his need to breathe so that his vision began to tunnel into darkness, chest heaving against the invisible weight crushing in against it, locked into this desperate struggle as reality blurred to a distant haze...

Some muted whisper called him to pull the Force about him, to turn it inwards...

The moment he focused the Force the pressure which bound his chest was gone and Luke lurched forward, dragging oxygen into burning lungs, unable to do anything more than breathe.

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"I am uncertain what you expect to gain by this." Sitting casually ten foot away, Palpatine studied his Jedi, amused--energized even, by this fascinating war of wills. "Do you think you can indeed hold me out of your mind? You cannot and you never will. Do you think perhaps I will respect your defiant obstinacy? I desire nothing from you except obedience. Or perhaps you believe I will take pity on you and stop? Surely you know by now that I feel no such compassion. Tell me, Jedi, why do you fight when you know you can only lose?"

He smiled at the duality of his question, eyes intent on the boy. How weak this powerful creature could be, hobbled by the limiting rules inflicted upon it. He would show it power; he would break it free of them and bind it to him.

Terrified that he would turn as his father had, they had tried to keep the boy on too short a leash, but in doing so had bound him up so tightly with restrictions and rules that he could not fight back. The constraints they had sought to control him with would be the weaknesses which Palpatine would use to pry him from their paranoid grip. How poetic. When he held him body and mind, when he owned that wonderful, inflexible will, how his new Sith would appreciate the irony.

Eventually he stood and walked slowly towards the breathless, battered youth, driven to push him further, to goad a response from the boy simply so that he could retaliate again--re-establish his own dominance over this potentially dangerous creature.

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Breathe. Just breathe.With monumental effort, Luke forced himself to hold a breath for a moment so that when he released it in a scarlet-speckled gasp, the muscles in his chest had coordinated and he finally forced air into his lungs and oxygen around his starved body, coughing against the pain.

The Emperor crouched before him, watching all this with dispassionate eyes, the slightest of self-assured, indulgent smiles touching his pale lips. "Well?"

"Go to hell."

Palpatine laughed, scornful and provocative. "Is that the best you can do? Is that all the fight you have in you? Poor little Jedi, words are no defense against me. Do you understand yet? Do you understand that there is no defense against this power, save to take it and use it as your own? That to beat me you will have to become me, for only Darkness can fight Darkness, only fire can fight fire. Either you take this Darkness and master it, or it will crush you and destroy you, then reshape and rebuild you as I see fit."

"No," was all Luke could push past gritted teeth and gasping breaths.

Palpatine clamped his hand on Luke's neck, hauling him upright with surprising force to push him back to the wall behind him, his weight on one leg. Battered and winded, he didn't have the strength to pull free as Palpatine leaned in, inches away.

"Then do your worst, Jedi. Stop me."

Luke froze mentally and physically, muscles locked against indecision. The Sith's goading words ignited a burning anger, and with it the promise of power enough to destroy this evil being. Easy power, asking only to be used, with no conscience or consequence to limit it. But he would not use Darkness to fight Darkness. Not because of Ben or Yoda's warnings, nor because of Palpatine's spurs and provocations, but because he knew...he knew in his heart that it was wrong.

Palpatine could strip away every other belief, every friend, every hope, until all that Luke had left was himself. But he still knew what was right and what was wrong.

"Well?" The Sith's breath whispered against Luke's skin, eyes burning with wicked glee.

He would not use Darkness to fight Darkness. He would die first.

Then die. Just end this. Why are you prolonging it? How many more times do you want to wake in this room?

What are you waiting for? No one is coming for you, no one even cares anymore.

How easy it would be to provoke this twisted, bitter creature beyond reason. Easier than living, easier than fighting the Darkness which crept unbidden into every reckless thought now, igniting them with addictive power.

A win by default.

A short laugh escaped him at that, which spattered Palpatine's pale skin with dark blood, so close was his face.

Luke met the Emperor's eyes, suddenly very sure, his expression hard and alive, never more so than in this moment--

Closing his eyes he brought this head down, bone connecting with bone.

Palpatine reeled back and in that moment Luke felt a surge of elation at having caused injury to the one who had caused so much to him, at having drawn blood from the creature who had bled him dry for so long, even knowing what it would cost...

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To be continued...

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