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Another Route - Part 2


Luke looked up to see his father flanked by two squadrons of stormtroopers. His hands were clasped behind his back and his legs planted in a position that Luke knew indicated anger. He winced. "Father, I…"

"You disobeyed a direct command," Vader rumbled ominously. "I do not tolerate such wanton defiance."

"I didn't mean to, it's just…" Luke trailed off miserably. "I'm sorry, I was just trying…"

"You have no excuse for your actions," Vader said with dark finality. "Captain BT-31-01, remove these children and return them to their barracks to await proper punishment from their supervising officers."

"Yes, my lord." The leading stormtrooper marched past Vader and Luke to the other cadets, all of whom were terrified out of their minds.

"Wait, sir, Lord Vader!" Jons, in an astounding display of bravery, rushed past the others and past Luke. "It's not his fault, sir. If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have come, it's just, my father is a guard here, and I was worried about him." He stopped and stared up at the immense figure, realization of his actions dawning on him.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Luke hissed. "Get back!" "I…" Jons whispered, staring up at the fearsome man before him. He stumbled backwards.

Vader ignored Jons' words. "You thought that the appropriate course of action was to steal Imperial TIE fighters and risk all of your lives?" he asked, the anger in his voice evident.

Luke swallowed. "Father…"

"Come with me." Vader turned around and strode past the stormtroopers, his cloak billowing out behind him. Luke glanced one last time at the trainees and jogged to catch up to his father. They walked towards the base in complete silence save Vader's breathing. "Why did you attempt to save the boy's father?"

"Attempt to save?" Luke asked, hoping his father's choice of words was accidental.

"All guards were executed."

"What? You...?"

"Of course not," said Vader impatiently. "Upon the prisoners' takeover of the base, they were all shot. Once I entered, they surrendered immediately. I was too late to save the guards."

Luke hung his head. "I just… I grew up thinking my father was dead," he said quietly. "I didn't want him to have to do that…"

Vader was strangely touched before he beat the sentiment down. "And you thought me incapable of doing the job as well as you?"

"No… I didn't think," Luke mumbled.

"Of course not. You could have been killed. You put five other of your supposed comrades in mortal peril and destroyed two of my TIE fighters."

"We shot down three ships…" Luke offered. "I did one by myself and helped with another one."

"That is inconsequential."

Luke sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Apologies do not erase the past," Vader said firmly. "You are to be removed from the pilot training program."

"What? But"—

"You have a more fitting punishment?" Vader asked, stopping and turning towards his son.

"Father… If you had an officer or something that did what I did, you wouldn't remove him from the military!" Luke knew he was grasping at straws.

"No. He would be dead," Vader said with a touch of amusement.

Luke grimaced. "Point taken. It's just… I love flying. And you do too. I saw you."

"You may continue to fly, as long as you are under my supervision," Vader conceded. "You proved yourself to be far beyond the trainees. There is no need to continue to be a part of that organization."

"But I like them," Luke protested as they resumed walking. "They are inferior to you."

"But they're my friends," said Luke, furrowing his brow. "Can't I have friends?"

Vader stared at him for a moment, unmoving. "You will begiven a room near my own."

"But"—

"This is final," said Vader. He turned to a uniformed man who came out to greet them from inside the base. "Captain Piett,escort my son back to the Executor."

Piett gave a small bow. "Of course, my lord," hesaid. "Come, sir."

"Wait," said Vader suddenly. He held out his hand. "Give meyour lightsaber."

"What?" Luke asked, his mouth dropping open.

"You have obviously proven that you are not up to theresponsibility," said Vader. It flew from his waist to his outstretched hand. "You will receive it again when it is necessary for you to have one."

"Fine," Luke muttered. "But if I get attacked, how am I supposed to defend myself?"

"I'm sure you will find a way. Captain, you may take him," said Vader, stepping back as Piett walked forward.

Morosely, Luke followed the Captain to a shuttle that held other officers. "I don't suppose you were the one to shoot down that Berk fighter, were you?" Piett asked with an easy smile as they
boarded the shuttle.

Luke forgot his mood for a second and grinned. "Yep. How'd you know?"

"None of the officers listening to the transmissions had heard of Team Liberation,'" said Piett wryly. "And when we tuned in to the rest of your private comm-links, we deduced the truth."

"And told my father," Luke said darkly.

"Actually, no," said Piett. "He—ah—knew already, when we sent him the message."

"Oh," said Luke, turning to the viewport. "How long have you known my father?"

"I…" Piett couldn't seem to find the words. The atmosphere had turned tense at the mention of Vader. "None of us really know him," he said finally.

Luke sighed. "That's what I figured."

When he returned to the ship, Piett gave him to an ensign who followed him to the Pilot Trainee's barracks with an air of apprehension. Smiling to himself, Luke used the Force to open the door, just to upset the man more. The ensign jumped, startled, and Luke turned to him. "You can go."

"My orders are to escort you to your new quarters—ah—sir."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Fine, then. Wait here." He walked inside to see Vaskall, Lang, Jisk, and Darmic on their beds, all looking nervous. They sat up upon Luke's arrival.

"Skywalker!" Jisk exclaimed. He grinned. "You owe me twenty credits, he said to Darmic out of the side of his mouth."

"Over?" Luke questioned as he made his way to the drawer underneath his bunk where he kept his personal things.

"Darmic here bet that you'd be in the Medbay for at least a week. I said that you'd be in there for two days," said Jisk.

"Then you both lose," said Luke, stuffing his things into a bag. "He didn't hurt me. He is my father, you know. It's not like he's abusive or anything."

"What are you doing?"

"Did you get in trouble?"

"What happened?"

Luke sighed. "My father isn't letting me be a pilot anymore."

Darmic hissed in sympathy. "Sorry."

Luke glanced around the room. "Where's Jons?"

"He went home," said Vaskall sadly. "As soon as we got here.

Apparently all of the guards were killed before Lord Vader could get to them."

"I know," said Luke heavily, rubbing his temple. "It was all for nothing."

"At least we tried, right?" Jisk offered. "I mean… we've all been grounded for two months, but… We did our best. And we shot down three of their ships."

"I tried using that argument, too," said Luke darkly. "According to Lord Omnipotent, it was inconsequential.'"

The other trainees laughed nervously at Luke's comment, terrified to take part in such disrespect. The fact that Luke was actually Vader's son had only really sunk in that day, when they'd seen the difference between Luke's approach of the man and everyone else's in the galaxy.

"So what are you going to do?" asked Lang, speaking for the first time.

"I'm getting moved to a room near his quarters," said Luke, drawing the drawstrings closed on the sack and hoisting it over his shoulders.

"Really?"

Luke nodded.

"Good luck," Vaskall said, standing. He shook Luke's hand. "I hope you'll come and see us every now and then."

"I will," Luke promised. Jisk clapped him on the back.

"Don't get too banged up, or the Medbay'll run out of Bacta," said the boy with a grin.

"Thanks," said Luke dryly.

Lang stood slowly. "Best of luck, Skywalker," he said heavily. Luke sensed a deep remorse coming from the boy, but couldn't place it.

"Thanks, Captain," said Luke. "Tell the others that I'm sorry."

"Will do," said Darmic. "Though Dase will be pretty pleased, I bet."

The ensign led Luke down a series of complicated lifts and corridors before they finally reached wing that had two doors on either side. He led the way to the closest on the left.

"I believe that is your chamber, sir."

Luke stared at the port. Every other door that he had seen on the Super Star Destroyer had an access keypad, but not one of the four had anything remotely similar. They were all blank. Luke thought a moment about trying to hotwire the doors open before he almost hit himself. Of course—only himself or his father were meant to enter them, so they would only open through the Force.

"Thank you," he told the ensign distantly.

"Of course, sir," said the man, practically running back down the hall out of his eagerness to get away from Luke.

Luke concentrated for a second on his room and within seconds, the door opened. He stepped inside to investigate his new quarters. He wrinkled his nose. The room was devoid of any personality whatsoever—it was as sterile as the Medbay. It had a bed, a desk, and a worktable and a door that he presumed led to the fresher.

Groaning, he lobbed his bag onto his bed and went over to inspect the various tools that lay on the durasteel worktable. It was a complete set, as far as he could tell, minus the heavier machinery. All of the tools were higher quality than those of Uncle Owen's farm. He winced as the memory of that night flashed unbidden across his mind. Sighing, he walked over to his bed and pulled out his belongings, which were rather meager.

He had three uniforms, all of which were useless now, and some other clothes. That was it. When he'd been brought to the Executor, he'd had to leave everything—including his T-16 model— behind. Suddenly he sensed his father's presence coming down the corridor and jumped up, opening the door with ease just as Vader opened the door to his chambers.

"Father," he said, and the enormous man turned around.

"I see you have found your room," said Vader as way of greeting.

"Can I come in?"

"I am going to meditate."

"Can I see your face without the mask?"

Vader cocked his head slightly. "What face?" he questioned, his response embittered and immediate.

"Father, you know that I know what happened"—

"No."

Luke sighed. "Fine. I'm really bored, though, and there's nothing to do in my room."

"Go to sleep. Meditate. Build something," said Vader. "I am not here to entertain you."

Luke rolled his eyes. "But…"

"I am not in the mood for your questions," said Vader. "I am going to meditate. Find something to do."

With that, he turned and entered his chambers. When Luke tentatively tested the door, he found that his father had used the Force to make it impossible to open. Groaning, he returned to his own room and flopped on the bed, falling asleep despite himself.

Luke adjusted to this new change in his life easily enough. Overnight, his clothes had disappeared to be replaced with monochromatic clothes like the ones that he had seen his father wear in his dream. He had obtained various odds and ends from the mechanics that now decorated his worktable and had stolen a mouse droid that he was trying to reprogram.

His mornings were spent in meditation and when his father found the time, they spent much of the afternoon in the sparring room. Occasionally, Luke would sneak to the mess hall at mealtimes to try and find the pilot trainees.

Almost a month passed and Luke began to wonder if his father's warning about Coruscant had been just a threat. Vader hadn't mentioned it since then—though he was a man of few words—and upon one of his questionings of a passing officer, they had left the Kessel system in favor of the Alderaan system.

One morning, when he was preparing to meditate, the door to his room opened with a hiss and Luke glanced up to see his father standing in the doorway.

"Come with me," the Sith said, and Luke scrambled up to follow his father down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" he asked once he caught up with his father's impossibly long strides.

"To Alderaan," said Vader shortly. "The Emperor has informed me that he suspects Bail Organa to be involved with a rebellious faction. I want you to observe his daughter to see if she knows anything."

"Who's Bail Organa?"

The respirator gave out a particularly loud whoosh. "He is the leader of Alderaan. His daughter is Princess Leia."

"Wow! A princess?"

"Yes. Use the Force to probe her mind, to see if she is aware of anything. She is running as senator for the Galactic Senate, so she may be privy to information with which Organa would not have otherwise trusted her."

"What kind of information am I looking for?" Luke asked, feeling important that Vader trusted him with such an obviously significant mission.

"Anything regarding a woman named Mon Mothma," said Vader. "She was once a high-profile political figure whom I now suspect to be the leader of a growing rebellion."

"Oh," said Luke. "You actually trust me?"

"Of course. You are my son, regardless of the fact that you disobeyed me," said Vader, sounding amused. "But I want you to introduce yourself as Luke Vader."

"Why?" Luke asked, furrowing his brow. "Since when?"

"Because Bail Organa knew Anakin Skywalker," said Vader, the vocoder giving him a grim tone. "And while he may have an idea of who I am, it would still be best not to encourage the idea."

"Why not?" Luke asked, secretly pleased that his father had referred to himself—indirectly, at least—as Anakin Skywalker.

Luke caught a wave of frustration. "Because I am a mystery and I want to keep it that way. There are several records about my former identity and I would prefer them kept silent."

"Like what?"

"Curse you and your relentless curiosity," said Vader, though Luke could tell that he wasn't truly angry. "It's of no consequence."

"But if you don't want anyone to know about your past, then it's got to be important, right?" Luke reasoned.

Vader ignored him. "Here," he said, producing Luke's lightsaber. "Take this, but only use it if you are in immediate danger. If Organa does know of my former identity, he may try to keep you on Alderaan."

"Why?"

"To use as leverage," said Vader, though that was not the true reason. If Bail knew that he was Anakin, he would probably try and keep Luke to protect him from the so-called Dark Side. No doubt Obi-Wan would have told him everything, including the reason for his imprisonment in the life-support suit. That alone was enough to make Vader want to kill the man, old ties or not.

The Executor was in orbit.

That was a fact that kept repeating himself in Bail Organa's head. There were only two reasons why Darth Vader's ship would be in the Alderaani system—he had become aware of Bail's discreet aid to Mon Mothma, or he had learned of Leia's existence. He hoped to the Maker that it was the latter. Was Luke alive? If so, had Vader corrupted him into a servant of the Dark Side like he himself?

Bail noticed someone waiting outside his office door. He stood heavily. "Enter," he said.

A messenger walked inside nervously.

"Your Highness, a shuttle from the Executor has landed," he said. "The passengers on board have requested your presence."

"Thank you," Bail said distantly, steeling himself. He would need to guard his thoughts. If the rumors of Vader were true, the slightest thought could betray him. He took several deep breaths to compose himself. Please, he begged silently, let there be something left of Anakin in him.

Fifteen minutes later, he was groomed and prepared to meet the visitors. The shuttle opened on the landing platform and Bail rooted himself against the fear as he saw the immense figure, black-cloaked figure descend. As the helmet and mask came into view, Bail swallowed. How could this be Anakin? How could Anakin have turned
into this metal monster, this creature that was half cyborg?

Bail was so focused upon Vader that he only noticed the small, black-clothed figure with a head of shining blond hair that trailed after the Sith until Vader stood in front of him.

"Bail Organa," Vader said, the mechanical bass sending shivers down the Viceroy's spine.

"Lord Vader," Bail acknowledged. That was not Anakin's voice. "How may I be of service?"

"I have some questions for you, Organa," said Vader, clasping his hands behind his cloak and walking past the man, who turned immediately to walk at the Sith's side.

"If I can answer them, I will. Please, come to my home where we may speak in comfort," said Bail unfalteringly. He took a mental deep breath, clearing his thoughts.

Vader stopped and lifted a black-gloved hand in the direction of the blond boy, who was staring around at his surroundings in undisclosed awe. Bail's heart skipped a beat. Was that Luke?

"My son will need to be entertained," he told. "Perhaps your daughter will give him a tour while we discuss some issues of importance."

Bail was suddenly dry-mouthed. "Of course, Lord Vader," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm sure Leia will be delighted." He glanced at the boy and was almost sickened to see the lightsaber hanging at his belt. "I was not aware you had a son, my lord." He looked towards Luke. "I am Bail Organa," he said, extending a hand.

"Luke," said the boy coolly, shaking the older man' hand with one that was black-gloved. Bail winced mentally. Obi-Wan had told him of the child's hand that he had found, but to be faced with it first-hand was more than he was prepared for. How could Anakin have cut off his own child's hand? Had the monster that was Vader truly destroyed him completely?

Vader ignored the exchange. "My stormtroopers will accompany us," he rumbled, ten clones marching forward from the shuttle.

Bail blanched. Was he being arrested? Vader had no proof to incriminate him!

He turned to his aide. "Verett, please find Princess Leia and bring her to me," he said.

The man bowed. "Right away, your Highness."

Vader turned towards Bail. "I have received some interesting news concerning the latest trading partners of Alderaan, Organa," he said after a few excruciating minutes where his regulated breathing was the only sound between them.

"If I can clear up any confusion, I will, of course," said Bail politely. "Will you be staying on Alderaan long?"

"Hopefully not," said Vader, just as a short girl in a flowing white gown with her brown hair in braid down her back walked into the landing platform. She walked to Bail quickly, her eyes glancing up to Vader and showing fear for a split second before she carefully schooled her features.

"Father," she said. "You called for me?"

"Yes, my dear," said Bail, reluctant to let her leave his side. "This is Lord Vader and his son," he explained, motioning towards Luke. "Lord Vader and I need to converse over some various matters and I would like you to show Luke around."

"Of course," said Leia with a gracious smile. She gave a small bow towards Vader, who regarded her impassively. "My pleasure, my lord."

With a barely perceptible nod, Vader stalked past her and said, "Come," to the Viceroy, who immediately obeyed.

Within seconds, Leia and Luke were left alone with just two stormtroopers as guards.

Luke was enthralled. He had never seen a more beautiful creature in his life than the girl who stood before him. The slight breeze of Alderaan caused her dress to sway gently around her ankles.

"I am Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan," said the girl, raising herself to a height that was just barely shorter than Luke. "Welcome to my homeworld."

"Thank you," said Luke. "I'm Luke Sk"—he stopped himself before saying the whole word. "I'm Luke Vader."

"Are you really Vader's son?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. A flash of annoyance crossed his face.

"Yes," he snapped, forgetting her beauty and station. "And it is Lord Vader' to you."

Her eyes flashed.

"I'm well aware," she said stiffly. After a few moments, she allowing her intrigue to overpower the manners bred in her since she was a child and asked, "Why does he wear that suit?"

"That's none of your business," Luke snapped, his original awe for the girl dissipating.

"I'm sorry," she amended. "It was not my place."

They walked in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

"You're running for senator?" Luke ventured, recognizing that he had been perhaps too touchy about the issue of his father.

She smiled. "Yes. My mother was a senator, and I hope to follow in her footsteps."

Luke said nothing, not having any words.

"Have you ever visited Alderaan before?" asked Leia, trying to find common ground.

"No," Luke admitted. "The only planets I've ever been on are Tatooine and Kessel," he explained."

"Kessel?" She sounded horrified. "You were a...?"

"No, of course not," he said with his first smile of the day. "I hijacked a TIE fighter with five of my friends to try and save the guards from the Kessel rebels," he said. "We shot down three fighters."

"Wow!" she said with surprise. "Where do you live?"

"On the Executor," Luke said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It is my father's flagship."

"But don't you have a homeworld?" Leia furrowed her brow.

"Yes. Tatooine," said Luke darkly. "But we both hate it there. He's got a house somewhere, but we've never visited."

They stepped out of the landing bay down some steps to a paved path that led into the trees. Luke stared at the landscape, his mouth open. "I've never seen so many trees in my life!"

Leia laughed. "Alderaan is famous for its vegetation," she said, glad that the awkwardness had disappeared. "It's a beautiful planet."

"I agree," said Luke, craning his head to try and see the tops of the trees.

"You're not quite what I would have expected," said Leia suddenly, before she could stop herself. Her cheekbones went pink.

"How do you mean?" Luke asked, lowering his gaze from the foliage to her face.

"Well…" Leia was clearly unsure of how to proceed. "Your father is Darth Vader."

"So?"

"I just didn't think that you would be so nice." The words were out before she could stop them. "I'm so sorry! I can't seem to keep my mouth shut!"

His eyes flashed. "What's wrong with my father?"

"Nothing," Leia remedied. "It's just… He is the Emperor's right hand man," she said, and Luke noticed a barely perceptible flash of disgust flit through her eyes before it disappeared.

"And?" His voice was harder than he had meant.

"I apologize," said Leia. "I've been far too relaxed in my manner." She drew herself up. "Come. I will show you the Palace."

Luke crossed his arms and Leia noticed his black-gloved hand. "You know nothing about my father," he said, the words coming out harsher than he meant.

"You're right," said Leia quickly. "I've only talked to him a few times in my life."

"You've talked to him before?" Luke's anger—as always—left him as quickly as it had come.

"Well, yes, on Coruscant," she said. "Sometimes he acts as the Emperor's representative for social functions."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

"Have you ever seen a lake?" she asked brightly, hoping to change the subject. Why had her father subjected her to this? She had nothing to talk about with the son of Darth Vader, of all people! She beat down the thought, composing herself. She was Princess Leia of Organa, future Galactic Senator. She was beyond a mere boy, even one such as Luke Vader, or whatever his name was.

"How may I be of service to the Empire, Lord Vader?" asked Bail once they were inside his private office.

"I must say, your arrival was unexpected, Lord Vader," said Bail as he accepted the cup from his aide.

He hadn't known whether to offer the Dark Lord anything, but he assumed, from Obi-Wan's description, that he was unable to remove the mask unless in a specialized environment. The man—was he even a man any more?—stood in front of the enormous window that gave a magnificent view of a lake. The sunlight glinted off of the surface of the water and off of his helmet.

"As was the news of your dealings with Mon Mothma, Organa," said Vader smoothly. "Tell me, how long have you been involved in a conspiracy against the Empire?"

Since its conception, Bail thought to himself bitterly before composing himself. "I'm afraid that I don't know what you're talking about, Lord Vader," he said. "Alderaan is a peaceful nation. We have no desire to become involved in any conspiracy of any sort."

"Do not lie to me, Organa," said Vader. "I am not such a fool that I would believe the word of one allied with Kenobi."

Bail nearly choked before he pulled his political mask over his features. How could he know? There was nothing, no documents or recordings that proved his communication with the Jedi Master!

"I have not spoken to or seen Master Kenobi in nearly fourteen years, Lord Vader," he said. "I have completely severed ties. In fact, I assumed that he was dead."

"What is the extent of your deal with the Rebels?" Vader asked, turning round to face Organa.

"I must repeat myself, Lord Vader"—but suddenly Bail was cut off, as though an invisible hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing, tighter and tighter—

"Lies are futile, Organa," Vader hissed, his hand raised and finger crooked.

"Please, Anakin"—Bail gasped. "Anakin, do not do this! Do you not remember? What have you become, that you cast aside your friends of old so easily?"

"Anakin Skywalker is dead," Vader said, using the Force to lift the man into the air. "I want to know where Mon Mothma and her pitiful band of followers are hiding."

"Anakin, I know that you are still there!" Bail cried, his voice growing weaker as the oxygen was forced from his lungs. "Cast aside this anger at Obi-Wan, at the Jedi! You have been decieved and enslaved by Palpatine!"

Bail let go of all pretenses, praying that somehow his words would have some effect on the terrifying mechanical monster that had once been his friend. His body slammed into the wall of the parlor, shattering the mirror that hung above a low table. He fell to the floor, quickly losing consciousness as the lack of oxygen and the pain overcame him. His last sight was of the shiny black boots that crunched over the glass and dug into the floor.

"As are you, Organa."

He stared at the crumpled figure for a few moments with a twinge of guilt. Bail had been a good friend, he remembered. It was a pity that he had chosen to defy the Emperor.

"I'm sure Father will give us permission to take the speeders," said Leia as they turned the corner.

They had walked through the garden, keeping the conversation mostly light. Luke had shown an appreciation for the natural beauty of Alderaan that had surprised Leia to no end. From what her father had told her of Darth Vader, it didn't seem possible that his son would be capable of such good taste.

Not that Luke hadn't shown hints of his parentage. The look in his young eyes had been almost scary when she made mention of his father. It seemed that he was fiercely protective of the Sith, despite the fact that he was a mass murderer. She had learned that he had spent most of his life as a farmboy on Tatooine, slaving away for his aunt and uncle when his father had shown up one day and taken him aboard the Executor. She had pressed him for details, intrigued by the story, but he had seemed uncomfortable and his glance had turned to his gloved hand for than once.

"As are you, Organa."

Leia turned to see her father's broken body at the feet of Darth Vader. She let out a blood-curdling scream and ran to him, abandoning all pretenses as Princess or senator and acting merely as a daughter. She knew, somehow, that Bail Organa was dead even before she reached him. Vader just stared at her unmoving as hate filled her so completely that it drove out all feelings of doubt she had for the monster—the doubt that someone completely evil could poduce a person like Luke.

She glared up at him, tears blurring her gaze and reducing the Dark Lord to a black mass. "How could you? He did nothing wrong!"

"He was a traitor to the Empire, Princess," the ominous voice said. "And I would advise you not to follow in his ways."

Vader turned towards Luke, who stood pale at the door. "Luke, come.
We are finished here."

Leia barely noticed their departure as she cradled her father's head. Vader would pay for this, she swore silently, committing herself against the man with all her heart. And if that meant defying the Empire… then so be it.

"Why did you kill him?" Luke asked, troubled, as they returned to the shuttle.

The dying sun cast a strange glow over the ship and off of Vader's helmet.

"He was a traitor, and loyal to the Jedi," said Vader. "Did you doubt that?"

"No, but…" Luke began, struggling to put his thoughts to words. "By killing him, you have just made Alderaan more likely to discontinue their support of the Empire. As well as making Leia an enemy for life."

"Then we will use her to find Mothma," said Vader unconcernedly. "Speaking of which, did you find anything from the girl?"

"No," said Luke, furrowing his brow and wishing he had a different answer. "Her mind was guarded, it seemed. I could not penetrate it."

"Strange," said Vader as they ascended the ramp of the shuttle and sat. The ramp closed with the hiss of hydraulics. "The girl is not Force-sensitive. It is curious that her mind is shielded."

"Maybe she has information to hide," Luke offered.

"None but a Jedi could create such a shield," said Vader, thinking aloud. He remembered Bail's words. "Cast aside this anger at Obi-Wan, at the Jedi!"

Bail Organa had been a Jedi-sympathizer. And Vader had felt a sense of dishonesty all throughout the interrogation, and would not have noticed if it was particularly present when the man had claimed not to have contacted Kenobi. That meant that he had known about Luke.

Vader clenched his fists. It always came back to Obi-Wan.

Once they returned to the Executor, the news that notorious pacifist Bail Organa had been executed by Darth Vader had already hit the holonet. There was a cry of outrage all throughout the Galaxy, gone unchecked because there had been no Imperial statement about the issue.

"My lord Vader, the Emperor has requested to speak to you," said a terrified ensign once Vader and Luke stepped off of the shuttle. Vader gave no sign that he had heard.

"Return to your room," he told Luke, holding out his hand for the lightsaber, which Luke reluctantly relinquished. "Meditate until I arrive."

Luke nodded and walked past the stormtroopers, all of whom shuffled out of the way. With a mental sigh, Vader headed towards the special broadcast room that was reserved for his communication with the Emperor alone. Had he acted too rashly in killing Organa? Perhaps he could have been made useful.

As soon as he arrived, he knelt down on the broadcast pad and waited for the signal from the Emperor to project.

"Rise, my friend," the rasping voice of the Emperor echoed around the chamber.

Vader stood swiftly. "Why is thy bidding, Master?"

"I understand that you disposed of Organa," said the Emperor. "Excellent. He was becoming far too popular."

Vader said nothing.

"We shall have to worry about the girl, though."

Luke's warning about Leia reverberated through Vader's helmet. Had his son and his Master foreseen something that he had not?

"You have done well, my apprentice," said the Emperor. "I think you should return to Coruscant. I have yet to meet your offspring. There will be no need for your services for some time, I have foreseen it."

Vader forced himself to respond. "Yes, my master."

"How does the boy's training go?"

It was futile to lie. "He progresses well, Master. He has much anger in him."

"Good," the Emperor crooned. "Go, my friend. I look forward to our meeting."

"Yes, my master."

Vader let out a sigh once the Emperor's holo flickered out.

Despite all his hopes, Luke would meet his master.

He only hoped that the boy's shields were strong enough.

It was two days later that Luke looked up from his worktable to see his father standing at his doorway. The Sith held a small, struggling mouse droid in his gloved hand.

"What is this?"

Luke fought the urge to laugh. "It's mine," he explained, lifting his hand and calling the droid to his palm. "I reprogrammed it to act as a messenger."

"Its persistence interrupted me from my meditation," said Vader, bemused.

"Sorry," said Luke, standing. "I wanted to see if you were interested in sparring." He glanced around his room, gesturing. "It's pretty dull in here."

"I see," said Vader, walking into the room. "These four chambers were originally one suite, but I had them modified," he told Luke. "What was your impression of the girl?"

"Who, Leia?" Luke asked stupidly, a flush rising to his cheeks. He shrugged. "I don't know. She was pretty candid at first, I suppose. Kept asking me about you."

"Oh?"

"She wanted to know why you wore the suit," said Luke, his expression darkening for a split second. Vader noted with interest that he had clenched his fists. "I told her it was none of her business, of course, and she shut up."

"Of course," Vader said easily enough, walking over to inspect Luke's latest project. "You should install a mini-vocoder on the mouse droid so that it can more effectively relay messages. And modifying its form will make it less noticeable."

"Thanks," said Luke, gratified. He jotted down the ideas onto a datapad that lay on the table.

Vader said nothing.

"We are heading towards Coruscant," he said finally. "The Emperor has decided to recall me so that he can meet you," he explained.

Luke paled and set down the datapad. "Oh. So this wasn't just idle conversation?"

"I want to remind you to continue work on your shields," said Vader. "It is imperative that you do so."

"What can I do to let him know I'm loyal?"

"You can do nothing," said Vader. "He will know if you are and if you are not."

"Oh," said Luke, standing. He stared at his father's unmoving form for a moment. "Do you want to fence?"

"You don't seem to understand"—

"I do," Luke interrupted, astonished at his own brazenness. "But right now, we're stuck in hyperspace and I'm not going to improve my shields in a day or two."

His son's logic sensible, Vader finally nodded. "Very well."

Luke managed a small smile and walked past his father to the training room next door.

Luke met his father on the bridge of the Executor at exactly 0800 hours, Coruscant time, two days later. He was dressed in his now-customary clothes—a black tunic, a black surcoat, and black leggings. He was long since past wondering if Coruscant was just short on colored dyes and now accepted his monochromatic wardrobe, only wishing that he had a lightsaber to hang at his belt.

Luke gasped when the viewport showed him his first glimpse of the Galaxy’s capital—Coruscant, the planet that was one gigantic city. “How many people live there?” he asked his father, who was watching the scene impassively.

“In the trillions, I would guess,” said Vader. “It is of no account.”

“Of course not,” said Luke, his nervousness for the impending meeting causing him to be sarcastic.

“Remember what I told you,” said Vader.

“I know, I know,” said Luke wearily. “Don’t think too much. Be aware of my shields at all times. Don’t lie. Bow when I get there.”

Vader said nothing for a few moments until an ensign approached them nervously. “My lord,” he said, his shaking hands betraying his emotions. “The shuttle is prepared for your departure, my lord.”

Vader turned. “Come,” he said, glad for once that his vocoder didn’t belie his heaviness.

Luke had never seen anything like Coruscant in his life. Speeders zoomed everywhere and in all directions. As their shuttle drew near to the Imperial Sector, he felt an unexplainable sense of power permeate his bones. He glanced up at his father, who registered his unease. “The Emperor,” Vader explained shortly.

Luke fought back the apprehension that he felt in his stomach. He had to be collected when he appeared before the Emperor, he had to be strong. He reached for the Force to calm himself and his father noticed, and did the same.

There was an honor guard of stormtroopers that accompanied them up the steps of an enormous building once they disembarked the shuttle. Vader walked ahead of Luke, his cloak sweeping behind him, aided by the winds of Coruscant.

They were not interrupted as they made the trek to the throne room. Luke wished they had. The power that the Emperor exuded was terrifying, and it chilled him to the core. Was that the ultimate mastery of the Force? Is that what he could become, in time? Some part of him said that it was what he must strive towards, but his other half was sickened by it. Remembering his father’s warning, Luke cleared his mind of thoughts and worries just as two men garbed completely in red swung open two large doors.

Vader walked swiftly forward and at the base of a set of steps, bent down to one knee. Luke followed suit, his heart starting to pound despite himself.

“Ah…”

Luke fought the urge to shiver at the voice. It crackled with raw power, but it was also warped, somehow, and grated against his ears.

“Lord Vader, and…young Skywalker. I have much looked forward to this meeting, boy. Stand up.”

Luke did as he was told and saw a strangely shaped chair, the visage of a man in black robes hidden in the shadows. He recalled that his father had told him not to speak unless asked a question.

“You have much potential, I sense,” said Palpatine. “How goes your training?”

“Well, your highness,” Luke said, glad that his voice betrayed none of his emotions. Was that the proper address? Or was he supposed to call the man ‘master’ like his father did?

“Come now, there is no need for such petty trivialities. I am a Sith, before anything else. Address me as ‘master,’ young Skywalker.”

“Yes, Master,” said Luke immediately.

The Emperor let out a slow laugh. “You have coached him well, my friend,” he said to Vader, who stood. “He will become a useful servant in time.”

“Yes, my master,” said Vader, his voice echoing in the chamber.

“I heard of your exploits at Kessel, boy,” said the Emperor, turning his attention back to Luke. “You seem to have inherited your father’s skill for flying.”

Luke didn’t know if he was supposed to answer. Would it be rude to agree?

“But the circumstances of your trip to Kessel were most displeasing,” The Sith continued. “There was no reason for you to risk your life over a mere guard. See to it that nothing of the sort happens again.”

“Yes, my master,” Luke said quietly. So it had been wrong of him to try and save Jons’ father?

“So, you like your new life with your father, boy?”

Luke was puzzled by the question. Why did it matter? “Yes, master,” he replied, confused.

“Do you miss your surrogate family?”

What kind of questions were these? “I regret that they died in the manner they did,” said Luke, knowing that it would be a sign of weakness to tell the despot that he longed to go back in time and stop his father from killing Beru.

He laughed, a horrible sound that filled the chamber. “I see. And are you loyal to me, boy? Loyal like your father?”

Luke was sickened for a reason he didn’t understand at the question. “Of course, master,” he replied.

“I think that you both could use time to focus upon training,” said the Emperor suddenly. “Take leave, my friend, and take your son with you.”

Vader was puzzled. His master had told him that he had not foreseen requiring his service in the future, but nonetheless, he rarely went off duty. “Yes, my master,” Vader said, turning around and striding out of the chamber after a brief hesitation. Luke did the same, feeling the Emperor’s eyes on his back the entire time. Once they were once again in the corridor, Luke let out a relieved breath. “That seemed to go all right,” he said, reassured.

Vader didn’t reply. “Come,” he said shortly, using a tendril of the Force to yank Luke forward, who protested.

“I can walk,” he said.

“Then do so,” said Vader.

Luke sensed that his father was uneasy, which was a very strange emotion for him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, jogging to keep up with the Sith’s impossibly long strides.

“Do not speak of it,” said Vader. Luke attempted a mind probe, and felt himself pushed out of Vader’s mind immediately. “Do not even try,” his father said, and Luke felt the anger that was always close to the surface begin to boil.

“You do it to me,” Luke protested.

“That’s different,” said Vader as they rounded a corner, heading for the exit of the building.

“How?” Luke countered as they entered the courtyard of the Imperial Palace. A short aide rushed towards them, but father and son ignored him.

Vader didn’t reply. He turned to the man beside them. “What?” he barked, enjoying the ripple of fear from the aide.

“Sir—my lord—there is a speeder waiting for you,” the man mumbled out in a rush, pale.

“Very well,” said the Sith. “Come,” he told his son.

“I’m not a dog,” Luke said irritably. “If you started walking somewhere, I’d follow you.”

The aide gasped out loud at Luke’s apparent rudeness, and backed away, clearly expecting Luke to drop dead in a second like those who offended the Dark Lord were wont to do.

“That’s enough,” said Vader in a low voice. He turned, ignoring the man, and followed his senses to the black speeder that awaited them.

“Black. How surprising,” said Luke wearily. “I expected pink. Or orange.”

“Get in,” said Vader tersely.

“What’s your problem?” Luke asked as he climbed in the passenger side, knowing better than to ask Vader to drive. “Normally I’d get even a half-snort from that type of comment.”

He seemed to have completely recovered from his meeting with the Emperor, Vader realized. And had now reverted to his annoying self. He, however, was not so reassured by the Emperor’s apparent kindness as was his son. “I am concerned that he has given me leave,” he said finally, knowing that his son would persist.

“Why? Is vacation so wrong? You’re the biggest workaholic in the entire Galaxy,” Luke said. “Plus, I want to go see your house. The ship is nice and all, but it gets old.”

“My house?” Vader asked, letting the workaholic comment slide. What did his son know? It was he who ran the Empire, not the Emperor. The man who commands the military commands the respect and generates the loyalty. To do so requires time.

“Yes,” said Luke, annoyed. “Four walls, a roof. Sometimes has a garden. A kitchen, usually.”

Sarcasm was his latest thing, apparently, Vader observed. “Off-duty, I retreat to a world in the Mid-Rim.”

Luke’s jaw dropped open. “Wait, what? A world?”

“Yes,” said Vader, amused. “It is a planet hidden in the path of a Gas Giant. After the last Jedi Council member was disposed of, it was a reward of sorts,” he explained. “It is uninhabited.”

“Wow!” Luke said, his eyes wide with surprise and shock. “You own a whole world?”

“We have established that. Actually, I own several stars and their systems, but this one is the only habitable one.”

“What’s it called?” Luke asked eagerly as his father effortlessly guided the speeder through the traffic.

“Bain.”

“Wow!” Luke repeated. “Is that where you’re going?”

Vader looked at him. “The residence is engineered as an environment entirely composed of oxygen,” he told Luke.

“I don’t care! I could wear a mask or something!” Luke said.

“I will contact my droids and have them reengineer it,” Vader said heavily. “If you want to go there.”

“But I could just wear a flight-suit or something!” Luke protested. “Don’t do all that.”

“And wear a breathing mask for the entire stay?” Vader asked dryly. “Despite appearances, it isn’t as fun as it looks.”

It took Luke a second to recognize his father’s strange sense of humor, and grinned. “I can handle it. Please?”

Vader groaned mentally. “Fine,” he said finally, and Luke beamed.

“This is going to be awesome!”

Though they tried to hide it, the crewmembers of the Executor were very, very relieved to learn that Vader was taking leave for an undefined amount of time. They had seen more active duty than most of the ships in the Imperial Navy, and since Vader would not allow his ship to be commanded by anyone but himself it meant that they were all due for the first recess in over a year.

A standard day before Luke’s departure for Bain, he managed to escape his room and say goodbye to the pilot trainees, whom he hadn’t seen in some time. He used the Force to cloak him from curious eyes and made his way down to the pilot wing, hoping that they would all be in the barracks rather than a flight sim.

When the door opened, Luke was surprised to see the entire group present, though there were two new faces he didn’t recognize.

“Skywalker!” Jisk shouted in greeting, jumping up to greet him. After Kessel, they had all forgotten their fear of his father and had moved on, though the portion of the squad that hadn’t been involved was still considerably afraid.

“Jisk,” Luke greeted with a grin, as Vaskall, Darmic, and finally Lang stood to greet him.

“It’s been a while,” said Vaskall.

“Yeah, I heard you went down to Alderaan to meet the princess!” said Darmic excitedly. “What was her name? Did you talk to her?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ah… BT-39-05 told JT-08-02, who mentioned it to the protocol droid D-DE1, and he told R2-F4 who told the mainframe,” Darmic explained.

“You’re taking the word of an astromech, who took the word of a protocal droid, who took the words of stormtroopers?” Luke asked with a grin.

“Did you?” Darmic persisted.

“Yes.”

Darmic swore. “You get all the lucky breaks.”

“You call Lord Vader as a father a lucky break?” Lang asked dubiously. “Life’s not all about girls, Darmic.”

The boy shrugged. “What was she like?”

Luke laughed. “I just came to say goodbye. I don’t have much time.”

“Where are you going?” asked Jisk, frowning.

Luke wasn’t sure if Bain was a secret or not, so he decided to alter the truth a little bit. “I’m going on leave with my father.”

Darmic hissed in sympathy. “Ouch.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “It’s not that bad.”

“Maybe not for you,” said the boy with a shudder.

Luke watched eagerly as they approached the gigantic green Gas Giant. His father piloted the sleek, silvery ship that they had taken from Coruscant. They traveled alone, as both doubted that their greatest protection would be in stormtroopers.

Vader had remained quieter than usual throughout the trip, so Luke had spent most of his time meditating, the calm environment of hyperspace strangely conducive to his relaxation.

But still the three days that it took to reach Bain could not be spent completely in meditation, and Luke had had to force himself to stay away from Vader, knowing that if he began asking questions his father would lose his temper very quickly.

“How far is it?” Luke ventured once they seemed to pass the gas planet.

“Not very,” Vader replied shortly.

Luke fell silent, hoping that the strange mood his father had been in since their meeting with the Emperor would wear off if he got some vacation time.

It was nighttime when they finally arrived. The landing pad was brightly lit, though, and Luke heard and saw rushing water below them. His father strode away from the ship into the dark, and Luke followed, using the Force to help him see better. It seemed that the way his father was walking was straight into a sheer cliff.

His suspicious were realized when they walked through a high archway carved out of a strange, ebony-colored rock. There were lights on the wall that lit themselves as Vader passed, illuminating the walls.

They seemed to walk for at least a quarter of a mile before they finally reached a durasteel door that gleamed in the light. Vader paused. “Prepare your breathing apparatus,” he said, regretting his decision to allow his son to wear that rather than change part of the residence to accommodate him.

Luke obeyed, placing the partial mask over his mouth and nose and turning on the breather. Vader could feel his son’s excitement. With a mental sigh, he opened the door with the force and stepped inside.

Luke’s immediate reaction was awe. They stood in an immensely high-ceiling room with floors of the same strange black stone of the cliff with black drapes in each corner. The ceiling was overlaid with mirrors, so it seemed that it extended forever. There were two identical ebony wood tables on either side of the hall that extended in front of them, each with a basin of good-smelling water that gave the enormous room a pleasant smell that Luke could barely detect through the respirator.

“Come,” Vader said, walking forward to the hall. He ignored Luke’s rolled eyes and walked down the room.

There were ten identical durasteel doors on either side of the hall, and one at the end. Vader stopped at the first one. “This is my library,” he explained. “Enter this room only with my supervision.” He turned to the next one. “The kitchen and other utilities. It is off limits. If you are hungry, send a request and a droid will bring food to you.” Luke nodded to show that he understood. Vader went through the rest—a meditation room that Luke was free to use, a parlor, a gigantic workroom, a training room, a military room, Luke’s quarters, storage, and a broadcast room used for communication with the Emperor. When they at last reached the final door, Vader seemed to hesitate. “These are my chambers,” he said finally. “You are not to enter under any circumstances.”

Luke nodded, slightly bewildered. “I understand.”

“Good,” said Vader. “Dismissed.” Without another word, the door to his quarters opened with a hiss and he disappeared inside, leaving Luke standing in the immense corridor looking very confused. After a few moments, he returned to the door that his father had designated as his own, and walked in to see a spacious chamber with a bed, bookshelf, closet, workroom, and desk. It was much like his quarters on the Executor, though slightly more luxurious. With a sigh, he flopped down on the bed, wincing as his breather started flashing as he had accidentally pressed some buttons.

You are free to remove the breather in your room, his father’s voice told him, somewhat dryly. I would not make you sleep with it, though I was tempted to because of your stubbornness.

Thanks, Luke said gratefully, removing the mask and inhaling deeply.

The next morning, Luke woke and dressed quickly, excited to explore the strange residence. He went into the hall and got very light-headed until he realized that he had forgotten the portable breather in his room. Groaning, he returned and put on the apparatus, stepping back into the hall and heading towards his father’s durasteel door, hoping to spar.

He attempted to open the door using the Force but was unable to. Frowning, he sent, Can I come it?

The response was immediate. No. If you’re hungry there is a control panel in your room and a droid will serve you.

That’s not it, Luke protested. I wanted to fence!

That is not possible.

But I thought that the Emperor sent us here to train!

Luke sensed some hesitation from his father. There are droids in the training room that I have built for lightsaber practice. Use those. With that, their link was cut and Luke was left alone.

Moaning in frustration as he realized that he didn’t even have a lightsaber, he went back to his room and ordered some food. After he had eaten, he decided to check out the training room in hopes that there would be a spare lightsaber that he could practice with.

Having committed the doors to memory, he went down the hall and found the correct door. It opened with just a touch of the Force and he walked in, noticing the ten or so powered-down droids in the far end of the room. He jogged over, watching himself in the mirrors that lined the walls.

He saw the droids clutched lightsabers and peered closer. He reached out and tried to pry one from the first droid but suddenly the twin photoreceptors on the droid’s head blazed to life. Luke jumped back in surprise and then grew alarmed when all of the other battle droids turned on, as if triggered by the one.

Making things worse, the original droid’s lightsaber suddenly ignited and it started marching towards Luke. He went very pale for a moment and backed away, eyeing the ledges that were located at certain points on the wall.

Suddenly one of the other droids made an enormous leap towards Luke and activated its lightsaber as well. Luke reached out and vainly tried to use the Force to call the weapon from its arm, but it seemed that it was somehow welded to the metal. Swearing silently to himself, he backed into a corner as the droid started twirling the lightsaber.

He crouched his legs and leapt over it to the other side of the room, where no droids had moved yet. Belatedly, he remembered the breather that he had yet to attach to his clothing, and the mask flew off his face across the room.

Immediately he closed his mouth and held his breath, knowing that he wouldn’t be able function properly if he started breathing the pure oxygen when his body wasn’t used to it. Gathering himself and the Force, he jumped up to one of the ledges on the wall and managed to grab on with his right hand. For once, he was actually grateful for the prosthetic—it was far stronger than his left hand.

He tried swinging himself up, but the ledge was too narrow at only a handspan deep. His lungs began straining for air and he truly starting to panic as two more droids with lightsabers clustered below him.

He unconsciously cried out as one of the droids jumped into the air and swung at his leg, nicking the flesh. Any hope that he had had that the lightsabers were on sting-mode only disappeared as the saber cut through the cloth and left a bad burn in his leg. Too late, he realized that he had stopped holding his breath, and his head began to spin. His vision began to blur and he focused on holding onto the ledge, knowing that if he let go he’d be killed in an instant.

Luke!

Luke barely recognized his father’s voice in his head. His consciousness began to dim as he weakly sent back, Father…. Help…

I’m coming!

Luke started losing control of his prosthetic arm, which was all that was holding him up. His left and long since fallen limp at his side, and his head lolled to side, just as he faintly heard the hiss of the door open.

He finally fell into unconsciousness and let go, tumbling the fifteen feet to the ground.

“Luke!”

Luke opened his eyes to see the blurry visage of a sickly pale, bald-headed man with terrible scars covering most of his face looming over his. He had blue eyes, though, that looked clearly worried. Luke heard the hiss of a portable breather next to him and felt a mask over his mouth, pushing air into his lungs.

Luke’s vision cleared. “Father?” he asked weakly.

The man nodded. “Sit up,” he said, and his voice was so weak that Luke didn’t hear him at first. He closed his eyes briefly and repeated it, and this time Luke heard him, and obeyed. He was lying on the floor of the training room, and the droids that had been attacking had powered down.

The first thing he was aware of was a stabbing pain in his legs. He looked down and saw the ugly burn on one and couldn’t identify the pain on the other. “You’ve broken your leg,” Vader said in that strange, hoarse voice.

“What happened?” Luke asked weakly as he took in the image of his father. He wore black clothes—unsurprisingly—that vaguely reminded Luke of his apparel in various dreams. He still wore black gloves.

“You fell after you lost consciousness,” explained his father. “I came in just as you were falling, but I didn’t have a chance to slow your fall because of the droids.”

“I didn’t mean to turn them on,” Luke said, his own pain and confusion erasing any surprise or disgust about his father’s appearance. He screwed up his face in pain as another sharp pain hit him when he had moved his broken leg.

“I should not have sent you in here,” said Vader. “I had forgotten that I’d taken your lightsaber away.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?” Luke asked hopefully.

“While you’re here,” his father conceded. “Try not to move. I’m going to take you to my medcenter.”

Luke didn’t have time to ask why his father had his own personal medcenter when his father bent down and picked him up, his injuries sending screams of protest to his brain. Biting his lip, Luke rested his head against his father’s chest, not caring how juvenile it looked.

They entered into Vader’s private chambers but Luke didn’t notice his surroundings until they went through another door into a highly sterile smelling room. Vader laid him on a patient gurney and addressed a 2-1B unit that had entered the room. “Dress the burn,” he told the droid. “And set the leg as best you can. I want it fully functional as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Master Vader,” said the 2-1B unit immediately. “Do you want him to take a Bacta dip?”

“That’s not necessary,” Vader rasped.

“Then it’s settled. Allow this 2-1B unit to care for you,” said Vader, turning and leaving his son on the operating table.

Luke opened his eyes and yawned, the action difficult through the breathing mask over his mouth. His legs were only a dull ache. He struggled to sit up and found himself on a comfortable bed, propped up by pillows. He looked around himself and whistled at the hi-tech, high-quality medical equipment around him. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the full-sized Bacta tank in the corner. “Wow.”

“I come here occasionally to try and heal my body,” an unfamiliar, rasping voice said, and Luke turned his attention towards the door, where his father’s presence was. He had been too close to unconsciousness before to really notice Vader’s appearance, but now that he was lucid, the horrible results of Mustafar were readily apparent. Scars disfigured the lower half of his face and his eyes, while still brilliantly blue, were red-rimmed. His head was completely bald, with various vicious-looking scars discoloring the abnormally pale skin.

“Oh,” said Luke after a moment. His father merely looked at him.

“Do I meet your expectations?” Vader asked hoarsely, one brow lifted. Despite his attitude, Luke sensed a great discomfort from his father.

“Not as bad as I thought,” said Luke honestly.

“You must have a vivid imagination,” said Vader dryly, the tone getting across much more effectively in his natural voice. Luke felt the rush of relief and grinned.

“Does this mean that you’re not going to spend the entire time in your chambers?” Luke asked hopefully.

“No. I will be modifying the gaseous environment,” said Vader.

“Father, you don’t have to…”

“A breather is impractical if it you cannot live normally with it,” Vader told Luke.

“But you come here to get out of the stupid suit, it’s not fair”—

“Luke,” said Vader firmly, affixing the boy with a stare that was almost as effective as with the mask. “I can keep my own chambers in oxygen,” he said. “I am perfectly used to my mask.”

“But it isn’t fair!” Luke protested. “You shouldn’t have to wear it all the time!”

“You may tell Obi-Wan that next time you travel to the past,” said Vader wryly. “I’m sure you’ll find that he had other priorities than my own comfort in the future.”

“But…”

“This is final, Luke,” said Vader more seriously. “I won’t have you endangering yourself because you are not accustomed to a breather. I think that we can both agree you want to keep as many of your limbs as possible.”

“Well, yeah…” Luke conceded. “But it isn’t fair,” he muttered.

“Life is not always fair,” said Vader bitterly, and Luke got the distinct impression that he wasn’t talking about his damaged body only. He stood.

“Where are you going?” Luke protested. “Can you stay here and talk to me?”

Vader looked at his son with surprise, and realized that the incident had scared the boy more than the youth wanted to admit. “Are you in need of assistance?” he asked finally, unsure of how to respond.

Luke furrowed his brow. “Not exactly…”

“What is it, then?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know… The 2-1B isn’t wired for personality. Not good conversation.”

“And I am?” Vader asked.

Luke grinned. “No. But maybe you can tell me more about my mother,” he proposed quietly.

Vader stiffened. “What?” he questioned roughly, his scarred vocal cords straining.

“You only told me her name,” Luke explained nervously. “What did she look like? Was she short like me? How did you meet?”

Vader didn’t speak for several minutes. Talking about his beloved wife was the last thing he wanted, but his son (her son) had just been through an ordeal… Perhaps he could tell Luke something about his angelic mother. “Very well,” he said finally. Luke beamed. “She had brown hair and brown eyes,” he began slowly. “And in stature she was very much like you.” He stopped. How could he properly educate his son on his mother? He didn’t want the dry facts; he wanted something more. “We met…” he trailed off. How could he explain? He had tried to bury that part of past even when he was still Anakin Skywalker. He had tried to forget everything about his upbringing on that Force-forsaken planet since the instant he left it. “I’m going to go work on the environmental controls,” he said brusquely, turning and walking out of the room. Luke knew better than to call after him. After a few minutes, he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he was in his room. He stared off into space for a few moments until the door opened with a hiss. He craned his neck and saw his father enter, clad in the mask and life support suit. Luke winced as he came into view. “I told you, I’m fine…”

Vader raised a hand and the breathing mask lifted itself off of Luke’s face. He took a deep breath, sighing. He didn’t notice the twinge of jealousy from his father. “Is that not better?” Vader asked, the weak, hoarse voice gone in favor of the familiar bass that the vocoder provided.

Luke shrugged and grimaced when he upset his broken leg, which now lay in a splint. His other leg was wrapped in bandages soaked in Bacta. “I feel bad,” he told his father, deciding not to mention his mother.

“There is no reason for you to do so,” Vader said immediately.

“This isn’t exactly how I thought my first day would go,” he admitted ruefully. “How long are we staying here?”

“Until I am needed, or the Emperor calls for me,” said Vader, moving to the foot of the bed.

“We’ll stay long enough that my leg will heal, right? I don’t want to spend the entire time in bed,” said Luke with a curl of his lip.

“It will heal quickly. In two days, it will seem as though it had not happened,” Vader confirmed.

“What were those things? Those droids?” Luke asked. The entire experience for him was hazy after he lost the breather, but the droids he remembered well enough.

Vader crossed his arms. “They are battle droids that I use for my own personal practice. I designed them so as to keep my lightsaber skills when I was no longer with an opponent.”

“Oh,” said Luke, furrowing his brow. “Maybe next time you should make it so the hilts aren’t attached to the arms. I tried to get one, and couldn’t.”

“That was the point,” said Vader, and Luke recognized a note of dryness in his father’s voice, distorted through the mask. “Regardless, I want you to rest. The more you sleep, the more quickly you will heal.”

“I’ve done nothing but sleep since it happened,” Luke grumbled. He brightened. “Do you have a holovid?”

“I do not waste my time with it,” said Vader. “And if I did, we would receive no reception here.”

Luke’s expression fell. “Oh. What can I do, then?”

“Meditate or practice using the Force,” said Vader. “I am going to repair the droids.”

“Why?”

“Because I destroyed them with my lightsaber,” said Vader. “And as they represent an investment of time on my part, I would like them fully functional. Then, perhaps, you can enact your revenge once you heal.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “So I’m stuck here?”

“Yes.”

Luke held the battered woman in his arms, tears clouding his vision. “Ani,” she gasped, her voice laced with pain. “I love…”

Unspeakable pain wrenched through Luke’s breath as she slipped away. Those creatures! They had killed her, his beloved mother! He set the limp figure gently on the floor of the hut and stood, gripping his lightsaber with white-knuckled hands. THEY killed her! THEY took his mother from him!

Rage flowed through him as he stepped out of the hut, igniting his lightsaber and swinging it in an arc, decapitating two hooded creatures. As his arms swung the blade, Luke could only feel mild surprise. Tusken Raiders? He felt disgust roll through him as he killed a small child, and then…

He lay on an operating table, every square inch of his body in agony. He looked away from the blinding fluorescent light above him and caught a glimpse of his charred body—the remains of his left arm. He screamed, the pain and the horror overcoming his vocal cords that had been ravaged by the fumes. He felt himself start to slip away from lack of oxygen, and he stopped screaming to gasp and choke for breath.

And then came a new pain.

They were cutting away what was left of his legs, cutting deep into the scorched flesh. Another inhuman howl tore itself from his lungs as a dark figure leaned down to whisper in what was left of his ears, “Revel in the pain, my young apprentice. Enjoy it! This is what the Jedi have done to you, their hero!”

It was mindless, searing agony. He gasped, “Sedative… please… master…”

The man laughed, a sound that Like recognized from his brief encounter with the Emperor. He recoiled, but his body didn’t move because he was chained to the table, the metal cutting into his destroyed flesh. “Oh no, my lord Vader. This is an experience that I want you to remember.” He felt a hand on his chest, pressing into the blackened, seared skin. Luke cried out again as his master’s hand left his chest and brushed off the crumbling bits of skin that had clung to it.

Luke screamed as he felt a sudden drilling in his thigh bones. “Master… please… please…” he begged, the sound choked and full of pain. He felt the darkness at his temples, calling him to unconsciousness, but suddenly he was jerked alert by a Dark tendril of the Force, the sensations even more clear. He screamed again, a gutteral, primal sound that made his master laugh again. Burning rage almost blinded the pain from him. Why did his master not let him die? Why did his master refuse to dull the pain?

“Look at your new body, my young apprentice,” the sickening voice whispered into Luke’s ear, and the table on which he lay began to move vertically. “You are indestructible, stronger than any foe you will come across. A perfect blend of man and machine.”

Luke obeyed and he almost retched in revulsion. Gone were his legs, his arms—in their places were metal replacements. What was he? What kind of monster was he, a sick crime against nature, a man that was mostly droid?

And then he saw the suit being carried towards him by two droids. He watched, unseeingly, as he was clothed in the leather prison. As the last seal was made on the suit, he was once again lowered horizontally and he looked up as a black mask was lowered over his face. What was happening? He tried to open his mouth, but the lack of oxygen rendered him incapable of speech. What was wrong with his lungs? Why couldn’t he breathe?

There was the hiss of seals as the mask became part of the suit and he saw his surroundings through two opaque lenses for the first time. He felt the sound of another attachment click into place and after a second more of oxygen deprivation, he felt the rush of air force past his mouth and into his lungs and then it was sucked back out with a “hush.”

“Can you hear me, Lord Vader?”

“Yes, master.”

Luke’s eyes flew open and without thinking he rushed to his ‘fresher and threw up, the vestigial pains shooting through his body. He forgot his legs and collapsed to the floor of the room, breathing raggedly. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw his pale, sweaty reflection. With a moan he slid back to the floor. He hadn’t had a dream like that since his father had told him how to stop them. What had sparked it?

And suddenly Luke was filled with rage. The Emperor! The Emperor had forced his father to live through the operations without any pain medication! It was almost as bad as what Obi-Wan did in the first place!

Why did Vader serve the Emperor? How could he, when the cursed man had made him endure that unspeakable pain? Luke shuddered and clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from retching again. He remembered very clearly the pain of the Mustafar, but that had been different. On the operating table, they had been purposefully cutting away his flesh, attaching the prosthetic limbs, and he was perfectly conscious, not blinded by the pain of betrayal and fear.

How could that seemingly benevolent man that he had met on Coruscant be the same creature that had laughed as his father was in agony? That had told him to enjoy the pain? Luke shut his eyes, trying to forget the horrible image of the mask over his face, the forced breathing… That was what his father lived with, every single day of his life!

Slowly the pain of Luke’s healing leg brought him to the present and he stood up and limped back to his bed, deciding to reach out to the Force to help him sleep dreamlessly. He sent a mind probe to his father, and found him at peace. Good. Luke didn’t want his father to know that he had just lived through yet another horrible memory of his.

The next morning Luke’s leg was completely healed. He took a shower—reveling in the water, as always—and dressed quickly. He left his chambers and sent a quick probe to try and find his father.

He was in the training room, so Luke swallowed his apprehensions and entered the roo,. Vader was standing at a low-slung ledge that served as a sort of table. One of the droids was dismantled upon it and Vader was carefully rewiring a circuit board. “Father?” Luke asked nervously, the memory of the room rushing back to him.

Vader turned and Luke froze, remembering the mask and the forced breathing and the pain—

He closed his eyes briefly and turned away, walking towards the droids that his father had already fixed. “Yes?” The bass echoed around the room and Luke recalled the sound from within and tried to block his mind from it.

“I was just coming to see what you were doing,” Luke mumbled.

“Would you care to fence?” Vader questioned.

Luke forgot the sensations of the suit and mask for a moment and looked up, grinning. “Absolutely!”

The Sith stood and unclipped Luke’s lightsaber from his belt and Luke called it over to him, enjoying the feel of the weapon in his hands. His father activated his own blade and stepped back. Luke glanced up and savagely repressed the memories of his dream. He couldn’t let his father know that he had dreamed more of his memories—he already didn’t want to share the experience of Mustafar, and Luke knew that the operating table was just as bad. He bit his lip and attempted to concentrate as Vader lunged. He blocked and swung out in a rudimentary swing that his father parried easily.

Luke caught another glimpse of the mask and faltered, and in that second, his father disarmed him. “You are not focused,” Vader observed. He furrowed his brow behind the mask. His son seemed unusually jittery. Was it the close proximity to the powered down battle droids?

“Sorry,” Luke mumbled, resuming his stance with the lightsaber. He didn’t look at his father.

“What is the problem?” asked the Sith wearily, deactivating his own lightsaber and hooking it to his waist. He attempted to reach and test his son’s mind, but he was pushed back rather forcefully. He cocked his head. “What has happened?”

“Nothing,” Luke muttered. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t look at his father without remembering the dream. It was not just the pain that he recalled—it was the horrible feeling of being completely isolated from his surroundings, imprisoned behind a mask. Luke shivered despite himself.

“Do not insult me by lying,” Vader said stiffly. “Tell me what is the problem.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything!” Luke burst out, his words echoing throughout the chamber. He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Vader was surprised. What could have happened to his son? He had had no contact with anyone except himself and the few droids. Even after his accident, he had not acted this way. “Do not make me interrogate you, my son.”

“It’s nothing!” Luke protested. “Just leave me alone. Let’s have another go, all right?” He ignited his lightsaber and waited for Vader to do the same. Behind his mask, Vader raised an eyebrow and lifted his hand, calling the weapon to his palm. Luke scowled and then looked away, as though he couldn’t stand the sight of his father.

Was that it? Had Luke been so disgusted by his appearance that he could not longer look at him, despite the mask? But that didn’t make sense, Vader realized, because the boy had said himself that it hadn’t been as bad as he had thought it would be. Then what was the problem? He reached forward a second time, and found a chink in his son’s shields. He dipped inside, and then recoiled at what he saw.

The operating table.

The pain.

Palpatine, standing at his ear, whispering to him to revel in the pain, to crave it…

“Look at your new body, my young apprentice.”

How could he have found out? How did his son know of those things? He swayed on his feet slightly, unaware of his surroundings, until he felt Luke rush to him. “Father, sit down!” Luke cried out, obviously concerned for him. He stumbled back and leaned against the mirror that was the wall.

“Luke…” he began, his mind racing. “How…?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, his eyes filling with tears. “I had a dream, like the one of Mustafar.”

Vader flinched. One bad memory was quite enough, thank you. “How long have you been having these dreams?” he said after he found his voice.

“It was the first one since you showed me how to stop them,” Luke mumbled as he wiped his eyes, acutely embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just…” He looked up. “I know how it feels.”

“How what feels, exactly?” Vader asked, slightly confused.

Luke flushed. “The suit. The mask. Everything.”

Vader froze. “I am accustomed to it,” he said finally. He reached out and touched a hand to Luke’s chin. The boy looked up. “Don’t think about it,” he said. “Try and forget.”

He nodded and then released a sigh. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“It is of no account.”

Luke grinned wryly, a pathetic imitation of his normal one. “Of course it isn’t.” His expression darkened, and Vader caught a hint of his thoughts, of his begging for relief from the pain. He flinched again. “Why didn’t he…?”

“I don’t know,” said Vader abruptly. “I suppose he was trying to make me stronger.”

Luke’s lip curled in disgust, and Vader felt a wave of anger flow off of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vader placed a black-gloved finger over it. “Get some food,” he commanded. “And relax. We will resume this when you are ready.”

Luke considered objecting but thought better of it. He nodded and turned to leave. “Father,” he said slowly. “I am sorry.”

Vader tensed. “Thank you,” he managed finally. With a nod, Luke disappeared into the corridor, and Vader was left to his own thoughts, which strayed towards a question that he had never ceased to ask.

Why? Why had Palpatine done that? He knew now that more could have been done to heal him, or at least he suspected it was so, but what reason did his master have to prevent his apprentice from regaining full capacity strength?

Probably because all he would have to do is threaten a little spark of Force-lightning, and you wouldn’t think twice about anything, a small voice in the back of Vader’s mind whispered. Can’t very well protest when a little shock will completely destroy everything that keeps you alive.

Vader clenched his fists, the voice in the back of his head whispering monster. Palpatine deserved to die.

The thought didn’t belong to Darth Vader. It belonged to a voice that he had silenced, long ago, and Vader shuddered. That thought had no place in his head, he said firmly. Gritting his teeth, he ignited his saber and stalked towards the repaired droids, activating them with a touch of the Force.

Luke went to the meditation room after he had done as what Vader had told him and found that the room was unlike any he had seen in his life. It was a far cry from the stark, uniform surroundings of the Executor and from the black, minimalist route that his father took. The walls were expertly painted to depict a beautiful planet that reminded Luke of Alderaan somewhat. The difference was the enormous mountains and the wild way the flowers grew, rather than the ordered gardens of Alderaan.

The beauty of the place took his breath away. Not only had Luke never seen so many plants, but the painting was so realistic that Luke imagined that he could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his back. After a few minutes, he cleared his head. This was not something that he had expected from his father, to be sure. What planet was this place, anyway? Why did his father use it as the meditation room?

Luke examined it closer and found he vaguely remembered a section of valley by an enormous lake. He pored his memory for it and then, with a jolt, remembered the first time that his father had ever entered his dream. He grinned. He would have to ask just where this place was.

After a few moments, he sat down on one the peculiar meditation platforms and opened himself to the Force. However, instead of the normal calm, Luke seemed to fade into a vision. He saw himself sitting at a table across from an old man that he felt he should recognize. The old man handed him a lightsaber, saying, “This was your father’s weapon, Luke. This was his most prized possession.” The man looked at his hands as Luke felt himself speak. “Do not take your father’s path, Luke. It is only a road to despair and slavery. You alone can defeat the darkness. You must search for the Light.”

Luke opened his eyes and checked the chronometer on his wrist. His eyes widened. He had been meditating in that strange dream for three standard hours! He sat up and stretched. What had he seen? Was it a vision of the future? He groaned. First visions of the past in his dreams, now the future when he was awake. The Force was obviously trying to tell him something.

He sighed. There was nothing that he could do about it now. He jumped as the door to the meditation room slid open and his father walked inside. “Are you sufficiently relaxed, my son?” he inquired.

Luke nodded and turned to the fantastic mural that was the walls. “Where is this place?” he inquired eagerly, standing up.

His father stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Naboo,” he said shortly.

“My mother’s homeworld?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. It’s more beautiful than Alderaan,” said Luke, peering in to take note of the detail. “Who painted it?”

“I don’t recall,” said Vader. In reality, he had made sure that the painter had suffered an accidental death upon his return journey. He hadn’t wanted anyone to find out about the Dark Lord of the Sith’s love for Padmé’s world. It would be viewed as a strange weakness and window to his past that Vader wanted to remain shut forever.

“Oh,” said Luke. He turned to his father. “I’m sorry about…”

“Do not worry yourself. It was a perfectly natural reaction,” Vader interrupted him. He cringed inwardly. How many times had he stood in front of the mirror in disbelief that the leather-clad, masked giant was himself? It had taken him years to accept it, to grow used to the respirator and the weight of his body. He almost snorted in derision. His master had called it a ‘perfect blend,’ which was a ridiculous statement. It was only because he had the Force that he was able to move at all—over the years, his remaining flesh had grown extremely strong simply through walking and lifting the prosthetics. Even now, when he visited a planet with particularly high gravity, it was extraordinarily difficult to maintain his normal speed and stride. A perfect blend? His master had certainly never attempted to walk on legs that weighed eighty pounds apiece while carrying arms that were forty and thirty-five pounds respectively.

Luke waited for a second and then nodded. He turned and left the room, leaving his father standing in the place that he had created for Padmé. Naboo. He remembered so clearly that blissful time that he had spent with her there. The wind through his hair, the feel of the soft earth beneath his feet… The light touch of the grasses against his hands. The feel of her skin against his. He shut his eyes. He would never feel any of that again. She was dead, like his body was dead, barely kept alive in a disgusting twist of nature.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The name was enough to light the smoldering fire that always lay in his breast. He had taken everything from him—he had taken his wife, his child, his body. Vader looked in disgust at himself and strode out of the room. He didn’t belong in there among Naboo anymore than death itself.

Soon Luke and his father eased into a comfortable routine. After the turbulent first days, their vacation of sorts actually became relaxing. They met every morning in the training room and would spend the afternoon working on the finer points of the Force mastery. Then, Vader would retreat to his rooms, where he would get a chance to remove the armor and mask, and Luke would go back to his own room.

Soon three standard weeks passed and one morning Vader announced to Luke that they would be leaving Bain soon to return to the Executor. Apparently, various reports showed that the Hutts on Tatooine had been using smugglers to send various goods to worlds that were reportedly anti-Imperial. The Emperor had contacted Vader and told him to go there and take care of it himself, despite the fact that both the Sith and his son hated the planet with a passion.

“Why did he want you to go?” Luke asked as he helped his father repair one of the droids. His fingers were much more nimble than his father’s, so Vader had allowed him to do the more delicate work rather than entrusting it to another droid. “There are plenty of star destroyers that are near there, right? Isn’t there two on the next system?”

“Yes,” said Vader as he carefully welded two pieces together. “But apparently the presence of myself and my ship would create more loose tongues than an ordinary ship.”

“I don’t want to leave,” said Luke suddenly. “I like it here.”

“It is not likely that we will return soon,” said Vader, slightly amused. “The last time that I visited was over a standard year ago.”

“But now that you have me we can come back more often, right?” Luke asked hopefully as he handed a number 2 hydrospanner to his father, who accepted it without a word.

“I doubt it. My duties remain the same regardless of my progeny,” said Vader, and Luke rolled his eyes.

“Did you know that it’s my birthday a week from today?” Luke asked excitedly. “I’m going to be fourteen.”

“Is fourteen any less inquisitive than thirteen?” Vader questioned wryly. “If not, I don’t think it matters.”

“But I’ll be a year older,” said Luke. “When can I fly in battles?”

“Why the sudden urge to get yourself killed?” Vader retorted. “I haven’t seen you fly enough to trust you.”

“But if I got a TIE fighter like yours, one with shields, I’d be safer, right?” Luke persisted. “And plus, don’t you remember Kessel? I can totally handle a battle.”

“As soon as the roots of this Rebellion are destroyed, there shall be no need for you to pilot,” said Vader. “And I intend to crush this Mon Mothma myself.”

“I heard that Leia won as Senator,” said Luke, the name reminding him of a report that he had read back on the Executor.

“Who?”

“Princess Leia Organa,” said Luke. “Don’t you remember?”

“Of course. I was not aware that you were on first-name basis with her,” said Vader, sounding amused. “If that is the case, she is heading towards the same demise as her father. I doubt that her allegiances will have changed since Organa’s death.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t killed him”—Luke began hotly, but stopped when his father raised a hand.

“Do not criticize my judgment,” said Vader darkly. “I will not tolerate it.”

“I wasn’t criticizing you, per se,” said Luke. “But”—

“That’s enough.”

Luke glared at the control panel he was modifying. “Fine,” he said at last, the tension palpable between them.

Vader groaned mentally. The boy had a way of making him feel guilty just through his body language. “I have told you before, my son, that I do not idly kill people. Organa was a Rebel, and he was helping their cause tremendously under the guise of Alderaani pacifism. Other worlds were beginning to follow in his footsteps. I did what was necessary.”

“I understand, it’s just…” Luke trailed off. “Couldn’t you have sent him to prison instead? I mean… It’s like he’s a martyr now.”

“There is no time for trials,” said Vader. “And the information incriminating him was classified. So, you see, my son, that there was no other option.”

Luke said nothing for a few moments. “Is this one done?” he asked finally, lifting up the control panel.

Luke was grateful when they returned to Coruscant that he did not have to see the Emperor. After what he had learned about the Sith’s treatment of his father, he wasn’t sure if he could be as subservient as a meeting would require. The mere memory of the dream was enough to make him want to murder the man with his bare hands. They stopped in the gigantic city only to drop off the ship that they had used to get to Bain, which was Vader’s personal property.

They had taken a shuttle to the Executor, where Vader had immediately left to be informed of the goings-on since he had gone to Bain, and Luke was left to his own devices. Things had gone back to normal.

“You are distracted tonight,” Vader observed as he disarmed his son of his lightsaber as they trained a week after their return from Bain.

“Just tired,” Luke muttered, calling his weapon to his hand easily. That was one element of the Force that he had completely grasped—he barely had to concentrate any more.

Vader extinguished his own blade. “What is the problem?”

Luke sighed, knowing it was pointless to evade the truth after his dream. “We’re orbiting Tatooine.”

“As commander of the ship, I was aware of that,” said Vader, somewhat wryly. “That is the reason we left Bain, if you recall.”

“I don’t know why it bothers me,” said Luke, looking at the floor. “It just does.”

Vader felt a twinge of guilt that he brushed away quickly. He said nothing for a few moments. “Tomorrow you will begin to construct your lightsaber,” he said finally, noting the way Luke’s eyes lit up. “For your birthday.”

“Really?” Luke asked excitedly.

“Yes,” said Vader, hoping that the change of pace would do some good for his son. “We are done for now. Dismissed.”

Luke was distracted still when he returned to his room. Over the time that he had spent there, he had personalized it somewhat. He had taken his father’s suggestions about the mouse droid, but hadn’t had a reason to use it, considering that he could speak to his father telepathically. The lack of communication with people besides his father frustrated him. He sighed and changed his sweatsoaked clothes, wishing that he already had built his lightsaber so that he could hook it to his belt.

He ran his hands through his hair—which had grown uncomfortably long—and decided to go to the mess hall. He left his room, his presence creating a wide berth around him. Since the Kessel incident, any remaining doubters as to his identity had been converted. However, every single crewmember on the ship had been forbidden to tell anyone not on the ship of Luke’s existence.

Many people regarded Luke with almost the same fear and apprehension as they did his father, which pleased him on a perverse level but disgusted him on the next. He felt as though he was completely isolated, despite the fact that he lived on a ship with thousands of sentient beings.

Once he entered the mess hall, he spotted a few boys around his age wearing Pilot trainee uniforms and walked over there, hoping that his former squad was on duty.

“Hey! Skywalker!”

He whipped around to see Jisk grinning from ear to ear. They were the only ones on the entire ship to treat him normally. “Hey,” he said, pleased for interaction. He considered it a welcome change from meditation.

“Descending from on high to see the commoners?” Darmic joked, moving over so that Luke could sit down.

“Something like that,” said Luke with his first smile in since Bain. Once they had returned to the Executor, the closeness he had felt with his father had somewhat lessened because of Vader’s duties. For Luke, it was the same monotony every day.

“We never see you anymore, Skywalker,” said Vaskall quietly. “How are you?”

“Fine,” said Luke. “Busy.”

“Hey, I forgot to ask you,” said Darmic as he swallowed some water down with his food, “What did that princess look like?”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “Senator Organa?”

“Yeah, her,” Darmic confirmed with a grin.

“She’s out of your league,” said Luke with a laugh.

“How is your training?” Lang asked, speaking for the first time.

Luke looked over sharply. It was definitely not his business. “Fine,” he said shortly, just as a black-haired boy sat across from him at the end of the table.

“Back from father/son bonding?”

Luke looked up to see Dase smirking at the fresh burn on his neck. He hardly noticed anymore. The few times he had come down to eat with the boys Dase hadn’t been present—this was the first time he had seen him since before Kessel.

“My father almost got killed because of you,” Dase snarled, angry that Luke had said nothing. The chatter stopped around them as the other boys gaped at Dase for daring to speak that way to Luke. “Because of that stupid prank you pulled with the shuttle.”

“Your father almost got killed because he was an idiot,” said Luke calmly, his dislike of the boy rising up.

“He got demoted, too!” Dase said angrily. “And it’s your fault!”

Luke looked at him coolly. “Sit down or go away.”

“What are you going to do?” Dase spat, standing up. With a sigh, Luke stood up as well, wishing that the boy would just leave. “Are you going to cut off my hand? Or is that something only families do?” Dase asked, clearly attempting to provoke Luke who had thus far been unresponsive.

Luke’s eyes blazed. So the boy’s father had told him that little detail. “Shut your mouth,” he spat, both his hands clenching.

The talk quieted all throughout the mess hall.

“Are you going to go tell big, bad Vader on me, Skywalker?” Dase asked, grinning at the response he had gotten from the boy. “Are you going to run to the cyborg?”

The buried memories of the night on Tatooine—already close to the surface—rushed back to Luke. He narrowed his eyes. “Leave.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dase spat. “I’m not scared of you. If your father can’t even protect himself enough to stay off a respirator for the rest of his life, I don’t see how his son’s a huge threat.”

It didn’t matter that Dase was just saying big words.

It didn’t matter that Dase was inconsequential.

It didn’t matter that Dase had no idea what he was talking about.

Luke lost his control. How dare he talk about his father? He certainly hadn’t lived through the fire, through the operating table! He had no idea what it was like to view the world from behind a mask, encased in a suit that prohibited any human contact whatsoever! His anger and rage boiled up stronger than he had ever felt it before. He felt the Force surge through him, the power course through his fingers, blind him. The sheer power exhilarated him, he felt as though he was capable of anything—

And then there was nothing.

It was completely silent in the mess hall.

Luke looked down and his anger melted away and thought he was going to be sick.

Dase lay sprawled on the floor, blue from lack of oxygen and very, very dead.

Dead.

Panic overtook him and he sprinted away, as far away from the body as he could go. He raced down halls and corridors, glad that everyone avoided him.

And they had good cause.

Someone had died because of him.

No, he had killed someone.

And Dase wasn’t even a threat to him! He wasn’t a Jedi, or a Rebel, or a criminal! He wasn’t anything to Luke! He was worse than Vader—Vader killed when necessary, not over petty name-calling!

But Luke had killed someone, just for provoking his anger.

He had KILLED him.

Luke was nauseated. He found himself in the main hangar, which was almost completely abandoned. He threw up his mental shields, not wanting anything to do with his father or the Force. He stood there, breathing heavily for a few moments, trying to comprehend his actions.

Dase was not Bail Organa, and Luke had hated that his father had killed him.

Dase was not Mon Mothma, whom his father had pledged to kill.

Dase was not Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man who had destroyed his father’s life.

Dase was just a pilot trainee. Annoying, certainly, but had he deserved to die because of it?

Not knowing quite what he was doing, Luke climbed into a TIE fighter and readied it for takeoff as if in a daze. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from the Executor as possible. The irony was not lost on him. The Executor. He was the executor.

“Skywalker, wait!”

Luke turned to see Lang running towards him, face pale. “Skywalker, what do you think you’re doing?” Lang asked, panting.

“I’m going home,” Luke said, trying desperately to keep tears of shame spilling down his cheeks.

“Listen, Skywalker, you can’t just leave!”

“Yes, I can,” Luke mumbled, flipping switches and checking the fuel gauge. He looked up. “Go away, Captain,” he said, using some of the Force to make Lang leave.

It didn’t matter that he was right over the last place he wanted to be—Tatooine. Nothing mattered. All that did was the fact that he was now a murderer. A murderer.

Luke used the Force to open the hatch, not knowing how he found the focus and the power to perform such a huge task. Once it was open, his ship zoomed out of the hangar, Luke controlling it almost without thinking.

He didn’t want to be a Sith. He didn’t want to build a lightsaber. He didn’t want to be a fighter pilot. All he wanted was to return to his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, to stay on Tatooine if he had to.

But they were dead. Vader killed them. Luke he had killed Dase, out of anger.

Luke shuddered. The Jedi were evil, but weren’t the Sith evil, too, if they killed people? Was there no good? Was there only evil?

Despite the small size of his ship, Luke piloted it into the atmosphere of the dry planet. He used the ship’s positioning system to locate Anchorhead and powered his thrusters, moving towards the small town as quickly as he was able.

The former General Bixel Dase was furious.

His son was dead, killed by Darth Vader’s supposed offspring. He doubted that the man was human, much less capable of procreating.

“See to it that Skywalker is found,” he told his aide, his voice shaking with anger.

“Yes, Captain,” said the man, and the holo vanished. The man stared at his desk blankly. How dare that boy kill his son? One of the eye-witnesses had said that his son had provoked him, but what could the boy have said to make murder justified?

He curled his lip. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, apparently. He clenched his fists just as Vader stepped inside his office.

Dase’s high ideas of telling Vader off evaporated very, very quickly.

“Captain Dase,” Vader said darkly, using the Force to make the man more terrified than he’d ever been in his life. “I trust that you have learned of the situation.”

“My lord,” the man began. “I apologize for any agitation”—

“My son is missing.” Vader was furious. He had felt the disturbance of the Force, the bright burst of power, and had touched upon his son’s horror and self-loathing until the boy had thrown up desperate shields. Now, even he could not find him.

“And mine is dead,” said Dase, his indignation overcoming his fear for a brief second.

Vader lifted a hand, using the