Yes, basically an improved version of Luke and his Father I know...I just feel that I wrote that really badly aha
Family Ties
Chapter One: Tatooine
Luke Skywalker sighed miserably; he gazed longingly up towards the sky, wondering what adventures lay beyond Tatooine in outer space. He just wasn't content with the idea of living out the rest of his days as a moisture farmer, no matter what his Uncle said!
He scowled as he thought of his Uncle Owen; he was a strict man, and he and Luke never really seemed to get along with each other.
All he does is boss me around and make me do chores—it's not fair! Luke pouted as the twin suns started to set. He knew he would have to go back to the Homestead before it grew dark—his Aunt would have a fit if he weren't back on time.
Luke was smaller than most other nine year olds his age; he got teased for it constantly by the other children. He was also quite skinny for his age too—Owen and Beru Lars weren't the poorest of people on the planet and they had food on the table every night, but Luke just burnt up all the calories by running around in the sun all day.
"I'm home Aunt Beru!" Luke called, shaking off as much sand as he could from his clothes. He paused and sniffed the air, immediately identifying the delicious smell as Bantha steak, his favourite.
"Come into the kitchen!" Beru called. She smiled warmly as Luke came charging in, a messy blur of blonde hair and sand. "I've told you to shake down all the sand before you come in!" she chastised, watching in disapproval as he slid into his seat.
"Why are we having Bantha steak?" he asked excitedly, completely ignoring what she'd said. Luke snuck a glance over at Uncle Owen who was seated opposite him, a permanent scowl plastered on his face.
"It's your birthday tomorrow, that's why." He said gruffly. Luke frowned thoughtfully; they'd never gone through this much effort for him before! So why were they now?
He weren't complaining though, and tucked in with gusto, savouring each mouthful. He went through four cups of Blue milk before he'd finished his dinner. Aunt Beru nodded in approval; she'd always tried to put more meat on his bones, but it proved to be a near impossible task.
"Luke," the little blonde boy turned his head, a wide grin spilling onto his face, "happy birthday!"
"For me?" Luke carefully held his present, feeling it with his fingers. They'd gotten him new tools! Luke was ecstatic, and after a brief thank-you and hug, he had sprinted out of the kitchen and straight to where the droids were kept.
"Rise, Lord Vader." Palpatine watched as his Sith apprentice stiffly stood up, his masked face fixed on him.
"What is thy bidding, my Master?" Vader said the words mechanically, as if he had been programmed to repeat them. He grimaced, the scarred skin around his mouth cracking painfully.
"As you already know, we have unsuccessfully endeavoured to locate the whereabouts of the weapons facility that has been supplying the Rebellion with the majority of their weapons..." Palpatine trailed off as Vader appeared more interested; he knew it had frustrated his apprentice to no end being unable to find it. Linking his fingers together, Palpatine leaned down from his throne.
"You have located it?" Vader asked.
"Yes...intelligence had lead me to believe it is on Tatooine. You shall go there, find it and destroy it—kill everyone—leave no one alive. They shall pay for their crimes with their blood." He spat, anger reddening his eyes.
Vader had become unnaturally still; Tatooine. The name echoed around in his mind, old rage being brought dangerously close to the surface.
"You wish for me to go to Tatooine?" He asked again as confirmation. Palpatine secretly enjoyed feeling Vader's discomfort. He sipped from the dark emotions, gleefully noting that Vader's anger was rising. He knew he could send a battalion or a whole army to flush it out without Vader's assistance, but the chance was just too tempting for him to pass up.
"Is there a problem, Lord Vader?" Palpatine asked delicately, eyes narrowing as he looked down on the other man. Vader remained silent and considered his options; he could not refuse the Emperor lest he wished to incur his wrath, but he could try.
"I—my Master—"
"It seems that some vestiges of Anakin Skywalker remain." Palpatine spat, disgust evident on his face, "I had thought you had cast away your past when you became a Sith—clearly not."
For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was Vader's respirator as it regulated his breathing, and then finally—
"As you wish, my Master." Bowing, he swept away in a flurry of cape, barely controlling his anger. His Master knew that he had vowed to never set foot on that planet again—and here he was forcing him to go.
Palpatine's always been one for games. He thought, thundering through the hallways. Striding through the glass tunnel that connected his Palace to Palpatine's one, he made his way to his quarters and headed straight to his hyperbaric medical chamber.
He sighed as the mechanical arm extended from the ceiling and removed his helmet and mask, the sweet tasting oxygen washed down his battered lungs and for a moment, Vader felt no pain.
He based in the temporary feeling before the Dark Side—as it always did—found its way back again. It cloaked him in a shroud of anger, despair and misery. He fed off of it, letting the Dark Side swell and pulsate around him.
Closing his eyes, Vader entered a meditative state, his mind clearing as the Force took over his senses. He was greeted by the usual darkness...but no, there was something else in the shadows. A flicker of something bright. He reached out for it, curious, but it slipped out of his grasp, dancing around—taunting him.
Vader pulled back, considering what had just happened. It was another Force Sensitive, that he was certain of, but whom and from where remained a mystery. He vaguely wondered if he should investigate matters further, but decided it was of no consequence; whoever it was, they were untrained and therefore posed no threat.
His com-link beeped, bringing him back to reality. He growled to himself, waiting impatiently as the mechanical arm lowered his breathing support.
Whoever the unfortunate officer was that had commed him would meet an unfortunate demise.