Thank you to the kind people who reviewed! I really appreciated reading your comments and I'm glad you liked the first chapter!

Now, on with the story...

Peace, Nanuk888

Disclaimer: I'm not George Lucas.


For Family

Chapter 2. Motives clouded

"Woo hoo!"

The four X-wings soared gracefully into the hangar, their exterior appearance resembling a patchwork of junkyard scrap metal belying the power and agility of the engines within.

The ships powered down one by one and the cockpit canopies yawned open. Wes immediately leapt out onto the wing of his ship with a wide grin splitting his face and punched the air with a jubilant fist. "Rogue Squadron strikes again!"

"Good job, boys!" congratulated Luke as he hoisted himself out of his own cockpit somewhat more sedately and started climbing down the ladder.

"Yes, well done," came a female voice. "That was exceptional!"

"Why, thank you, your Highness," Wes said. He remained on his X-wing, high on exuberance, but Wedge and Tycho hurried down to the hangar floor in respect to meet her.

The Princess greeted those of the Rogue squadron who had landed in the Southern hangar with a beaming smile. "The cargo ships arrived earlier with almost the entire bulk of arsenal from the Imperial stockpile. Your cover was commendable, drawing off the pursuing TIE fighters and ensuring the transports could jump to hyperspace. You did very well indeed."

"Bah, the Imps didn't stand a chance," Wes said casually, finally sliding down to the floor. "Like stealing candy from a baby!"

"All right boys," Luke called as he came around towards them from behind his X-wing. "Go freshen up and have a rest, you've earned it. Debriefing's in two hours."

"Thanks, boss," Wedge acknowledged as he sauntered away, ushering Wes and Tycho with him.

As soon as the others had left, the bright "Princess" persona fell away from Leia like a mask. As Luke turned to her, he saw the anxious look on her face. She gave him a wan smile and looked deep into his eyes. Luke felt as if she was making sure that he had really returned safe and sound, that she hadn't lost him too. It had been the same after every mission since Bespin. She rested a small hand on his arm, squeezed it for reassurance.

"Come on," she said and started heading towards the hangar doors. "You're needed in the Command Center." She glanced at his orange jumpsuit. "Did you want to change first?"

"Do I have time?" The implied question was, Is it urgent? In their line of work "urgent" was never a good word, and it was never a word they used unless it applied.

"I'm not sure. But it might be best if you do."

So it was his other role, the Jedi Skywalker, that they wanted. When not in his pilot's jumpsuit Luke had taken to wearing a dark version of the Jedi robes, with tighter-fitting sleeves and trousers as was his preference for increased mobility. It made him feel more the part.

"I'll be right there," he said as they parted.


"Did you see? That was Luke Skywalker –"
"– the Jedi –"
"– faced Vader –"

Luke almost cringed as the hushed, awed conversation of some new recruits reached his ears. He feigned ignorance and continued to traverse the damp corridors hewn out of the red-orange clay accommodating their latest rebel headquarters, careful to step on the coarse matting that provided grip on the wet, slippery surface.

At least it had become more of a rare occurrence to overhear such whispers now, with the more seasoned members of the Alliance having ceased speculating about him a few weeks after Bespin. The first month had been the worst. Having never quite adjusted to becoming a household name after the Battle of Yavin, he was only the more uncomfortable since Bespin when his celebrity status had rocketed into something closer to a legend. The only one to have survived a duel against the Dark Lord himself, it was said. Oh, how little they knew! He had barely survived, and Force knew the encounter had left him reeling – so much so that now, three months on, there were moments when all the meditations and distractions in the galaxy couldn't stem the overwhelming tide of grief. And longing...

He did not want to go there. He abruptly launched his thoughts into a Jedi calming exercise.

The technique had proven most useful in the last few months. Outwardly he utilised the benevolent demeanour of his Jedi training which seemed to convince the majority of them that he was, as he insisted, just the same old Luke.

Only Leia, who knew him as she did, could tell that something had happened with Vader other than what he had reported in his debriefing. She saw beyond the obviously missing right hand, and appeared more uneasy about catching him lost in his thoughts as he absent-mindedly rubbed his wrist where it met the prosthetic replacement. On such occasions when his inner turmoil seeped through his calm exterior, he had felt her concern as she picked up on his despondency, his sad state of mind that had occasionally even bordered on despair. He speculated idly at these times whether she wasn't Force sensitive.

Leia being Leia, however, didn't press him. She simply let him know that she was there. Before he had left on the latest mission, for instance, she had come to his room with a steaming mug of Jeru tea in each hand and some datachips shoved in her pockets. "I wanted some company," she had merely said by way of explanation, then deposited the drinks on the table, picked up his datachip reader, and started scanning through her chips.

But he also knew that her excuse wasn't entirely untrue. Luke could feel through the Force that the distinctive spark that was so characteristic of her was missing. She still performed her duties with her usual steadfast dedication, pulling her weight alongside the other top brass in directing operations, scrutinising intelligence reports and boosting morale. She also never shied away from buckling down as one of the troops for gruelling fitness and weapons training. But the lines on her face were strained and her smile failed to quite reach her eyes – those warm, chocolatey eyes he remembered so well were now somehow muted, dull. The signs were subtle and carefully hidden to be sure, but he could see them beneath her senatorial mask.

They needed to find Han. He had learned from Chewie and Artoo of their brief kiss in the carbon freezing chamber before he had arrived. Before Vader… Again, Luke firmly shoved those thoughts aside before they took hold.

They would find Han and his two closest friends could be together again. There wasn't a shred of jealousy as he would have felt three years ago when he had first met them. His love for Leia had firmly become what he might have felt for a sister, had he had one. He was happy for them, plain and simple. They just needed to get Han back.

As he arrived at the double blast doors of the Command Center he offered up a silent, wholly un-Jedi-like prayer that they would find his friend soon, and entered.


The large room was a motley array of advanced scanning equipment, communication consoles, instrument panels, and various holo-images tracking Imperial fleet movement. Some back-up power generators and life-support systems presided in the back corners. Technicians milled around the various equipment, their frequent calls to each other merging with the general background hubbub of machinery.

"Commander Skywalker." General Rieekan waved him over from a narrow doorway on his left.

It led to a small adjoining room, furnished simply with an oval table and six chairs. Mothma and Leia occupied two of them. Rieekan joined them and waved at another chair. "Have a seat."

"Sir," Luke acknowledged. He stepped fully into the room and the door slid shut behind him, silencing the noise from the main Command room. As he sat down he noticed the frown on Leia's face, she alone looking troubled rather than thoughtful.

"Thank you for coming so quickly after your mission," Mon said in her habitually calm voice. "Princess Leia reports that it was a complete success."

Luke nodded and brushed the comment aside, knowing they hadn't summoned him to exchange pleasantries. "We will give you full details in the debriefing later."

And true enough, the Alliance Commander in Chief came straight to the point. "We have been studying some recent events and would value your opinion." She gave him a meaningful look. "As a Jedi."

He opened his mouth but Mon interrupted, anticipating what he was about to say. "We understand that you are not yet a full Jedi Knight, Commander. However, we still appreciate that you have a considerable affinity with the Force and as such you may be able to shed a unique perspective on the matter."

"I will do what I can," Luke consented.

Mon nodded her thanks. "You are aware that we have received numerous sizeable donations in the last two months," she began.

Indeed he was fully aware. Two months ago, an anonymous credit transfer had been made into a trade business account which covertly fronted for the rebellion, of the considerable value of ten million credits. This only turned out to be the beginning of a whole stream of donations, varying between twenty-five and fifty million credits. Even had it not been for Leia filling him in, rumours had spread like wildfire that the previously cash-strapped rebellion might rapidly be becoming rather well-off.

"The current total to date is six point four billion credits."

Luke blinked. It took a while for the figure to sink in, and when it did, he forgot to breathe.

Rieekan shifted in his seat. "Our decoder has been able to pick out the sponsor names in some of the encrypted data," he said. "There commonly appears to be one of two names, Aifu La'ok and Daveem Eabar, but it's clearly the same person using different aliases – all donations have been made within this two-month window but what is more telling is that they follow the same pattern. We've been able to trace the transfers as far as a small branch of the Imperial Bank on Corellia, but there the trail splits into multiple directions, all of which lead precisely nowhere. Whoever our affluent new supporter is, they know how not to be found."

"The donations," Mon continued, "are unusual but not a cause for investigation in themselves. We have never demanded benefactors who wish to remain anonymous to identify themselves. However, there is something else that is rather –" She paused, looking for the right word.

"Curious," Rieekan supplied.

She nodded. "Curious. In the last two months, there has been an influx of various people pledging their support. General," she prompted. Rieekan pressed some buttons and a holographic list materialised above the table. As Luke scanned the display, his eyes widened.

There must have been almost thirty different species, the most notable groups being the hundreds of Mon Calamari who had managed to escape the Empire's enslavement, the last of the few remaining Caamasi after their homeworld's environment had been destroyed, and many Ghormans enraged at Grand Moff Tarkin's perpetration of the Ghorman Massacre and his subsequent promotion. Each had suffered injustice or persecution at the Empire's hands and they all had cause to support the rebellion, but for them all to suddenly join the Alliance at the same time... He could feel the Force stirring, drawing his attention. Something was happening here.

"What is more significant, however, is what many of the leaders have said. They all report something in common." Mon looked slightly concerned now. "They have all been in touch with an individual calling himself Varykino."

The Force swirled, gathering and focused. Varykino. He was sure that he had never heard the name before but it seemed to jump out at him.

"They all report," Mon continued, "that this person made discrete contact, always through secure audio-only transmissions, and provided instructions on how to make contact with us. It is clear that this Varykino has an in-depth knowledge of these people and their history, the transgressions they have suffered at the hands of the Empire, and how they can contribute to the rebellion."

"You're saying," Luke said slowly, "that somebody is recruiting for us."

"That is how it appears," Mon agreed.

There was a brief silence before Rieekan continued, "And now we've received this." He pressed some buttons and the holo-display changed into a document.

They were ship ownership deeds. Ten EF76 Nebulon-B escort frigates, with their complete array of armaments, brand new off the production line. Highly efficient against fighters and bombers, the rebellion had managed to acquire three of them in successful but costly confrontations. One was currently in use as a medical frigate, which Luke remembered visiting all too well only three months ago.

Leia spoke up for the first time. "Before you ask, the answer is No. There have been no reports of raids on the Kuat Drive Yards and our agent inside also reports nothing out of the ordinary. We even had some scouts make discrete passes to check, and everything looks to be in order."

Luke's agitated Force senses erupted into a full-blown storm and an icy chill shot through him.

"We were given coordinates of where to find them," Rieekan said, oblivious of Luke's reaction. He switched the holo-display again, this time showing the scans of one of the ships. "They were indeed there, roughly between Arbra, Zhar and Naboo. Our scouts kept their distance but as far as their scans could determine, the ships are free of any tracking or detonation devices." He paused. "To all appearances they're just gifts waiting to be picked up."

But Luke was barely listening. Credits. Systems. Warships. The connection in his mind was crystal clear. He knew, he just knew, that this same Varykino was behind it all.

If it had only been a matter of ostentatious donations and recruiting systems to their cause then they could have been explained away by a trillionaire who was disgruntled with the Empire. But ten capital warships was another matter entirely. What froze the blood in his veins was the fact that, if the ships hadn't been stolen, they could only have been obtained legitimately for the Imperial Navy.

And to first acquire, and then "lose", ten such ships without turning heads signified Imperial ranking of the highest authority.

The Force told him who Varykino was. Logic and all the evidence pointed to only one man. And yet he couldn't accept it. It made no sense! His hands trembled, his breath hitched in his throat.

"Commander?"

It was Mon. Luke wiped all expression from his face with an effort and looked up.

"What we'd like to ask you is if the Force might shed any light on whether this is some unimaginably good fortune, or if this is a new scheme hatched by the Empire. Who is Varykino? Does he really support us?"

Luke had never seen her look so serious as she continued, "If the ships have been sent to us in good faith, we cannot afford to not make full use of them." She leaned forwards. "If they are a trap, however, falling for this ruse will have dire consequences, as I'm sure you understand."

Luke took a moment to steel himself. "I will need time to mediate on this," he said in measured tones.

"Of course, Commander. We shall await your findings."


Luke sank down onto his bed and hid his face in his hands, but immediately pulled away as if he had been burned. He glared at his prosthetic hand, clenched it into a fist. What was Vader up to?

He knew it was Vader. It was possible, at a stretch, for it to be a Grand Moff – but only a strategic mastermind could have pulled this off and, fortunately for the rebellion, none had fit the bill since Tarkin's death. Only Vader could obtain Imperial Nebulon-B warships with such an ease as to acquire ten of them, and he also had the wealth, resources and aptitude to pose as Varykino. Furthermore, he would have intimate knowledge of how all of those systems had suffered at the hands of the Empire.

As was so often the case now when he thought of Darth Vader, a surge of grief swept through him. This time, he didn't try to stop it.

When he was young, all he ever seemed to do was dream of meeting his father. There were hundreds of possible scenarios – his father would come to Tatooine and they would just bump into each other in Anchorhead, or his father would turn up at the moisture farm or even at Biggs' house, or his father would see him racing Beggar's Canyon and know that the skilled pilot was his son – however it happened, his father would come for him and they would travel the stars together.

But never, not once, had he ever imagined that his father would slice off his hand in a deadly duel.

His wrist throbbed. How could Vader be his father? He could feel the truth of it, the Force confirmed it. But he fervently, so desperately, wished it wasn't true. His father was meant to be a good man, a legendary Jedi Knight, betrayed by Vader – not Vader himself!

He fell back onto the bed and stared at the red-orange ceiling. For what felt like the millionth time since Bespin, he wondered why Ben had lied to him. By now he had pretty much come down to two possibilities. One explanation was definitely the more appealing – that the Jedi Master had been trying to protect him from the painful truth. He sincerely hoped this was the case, although he couldn't help but wish that he had been better prepared when he had faced the Dark Lord. The only alternative he could think of was that Ben, and possibly even Yoda, had hoped Luke would destroy Vader. That the kindly Jedi might have been plotting to use him to kill his own father was a bitter pill to swallow.

However, what scared him – terrified him, even – was that a part of him actually wanted to reach out to him. His father, being alive after all this time! He had spent all the years of his life yearning for him, and even as he reached adulthood the gaping void within him still called out for his father. Whoever he was, whatever he had done, Vader was still his father. All fathers had their flaws, didn't they? He remembered Biggs used to complain all the time about his father demanding high grades at school, scaring off his girlfriends and going through his room. So it was perfectly normal for children to find fault in their fathers – although Luke had to admit that some might consider being a Sith Lord, terrorizing the galaxy, and mutilating his son with a lightsaber worse than most.

But at least his father lived! He was alive and – well, perhaps not well, exactly, considering the life-support suit, but at least alive. After yearning for his father for so long and now to have found him, it felt like such a tragic waste to not be together. Perhaps Luke could help him, bring him back to the good side. They might even be able to find medical procedures to heal some of his impairments. And then they could travel the stars, as he'd always dreamed...

Luke firmly brought himself back to reality. Those were childish fantasies and had no place in his thoughts anymore. This was Vader, who remained firmly mired in the Dark Side. Vader, whose formidable presence in the Force easily overshadowed his own. Vader, who had reached out to him and offered him the galaxy...

On Bespin, reeling from the horror of discovering that Darth Vader was his father, it had been easy to reject him and throw himself off the gantry. Between a rock and a hard place, he had readily chosen possible death over joining what he had considered a monster. But now that he'd had time to come to terms with it, now that the initial trauma had worn off, he was plagued with doubts as to whether he would be strong enough to resist the Dark Side when his father called to him again...

The knock on the door made him jump. Sensing who was on the other side, Luke was intensely grateful for the interruption. Such troubling thoughts only usually preoccupied him at night, when his daytime duties couldn't distract him and the night-time quiet stilled the air. No good could come of succumbing to them during the day as well.

Without bothering to get up Luke opened the door with the Force and winced as Leia stepped in and switched on the light. She took one long look at him slumped on the bed, then closed and locked the door. She came and sat on the edge of the bed, and took the hand closest to her – his left hand – in her own. She didn't say anything for a while and Luke was comforted by her mere presence.

"It seemed you were pretty uncomfortable in there," she said eventually.

Luke sighed. How could he even begin to explain?

"And I know things haven't been easy since Bespin."

Luke sat up, pulled his hand free. What was she doing? She had never mentioned the place before. "Leia –"

"Luke," she interrupted before he could say anything else. "I know you can't talk about what happened yet, but let me say this?" Her pleading eyes melted away his resistance.

"I'm worried about you, Luke. You hide it well but something is haunting you and I'm not sure you're handling it well. "

He frowned. How as he supposed to handle it? His father was Darth Vader, he felt he was a traitor to the rebellion by mere association. Not to mention his lack of self-confidence when it came to the lethal combination of his father and the Dark Side... He had no idea how he was even supposed to start "handling" it.

Leia flinched as well. "I'm sorry, that sounded crass. What I'm trying to say is that perhaps you're not approaching it as you usually would. You're one of the bravest people I know. You risked your life to save me from the Death Star when you didn't even know me, and since then you've confronted so many dangers without any hesitation. You've always faced problems head on. I've never known you to hide away."

Luke stared at her. It was true. He knew he was putting off dealing with it, "hiding away" as she put it, but it impressed him that Leia could read him so easily.

"Am I that obvious?" he asked, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

She smiled, relieved that his mood seemed to have lightened up a bit. "Only to me."

Leia waited while Luke seemed to digest what she had said. She recognised the moment when his jaw set in resolve and wondered if her words might have given him strength. She hoped so. "Do you know what you're going to do?" she asked.

"Possibly." He grimaced. "It won't be easy."

"Then it's a good thing that's never stopped you before."

Luke gave a short laugh. "True."

His mirth died down as Leia's expression turned serious. "About this Varykino," she said, and paused. She suddenly seemed very interested in staring at the opposite wall. "It's Vader, isn't it?"

He was too stunned to say anything for a moment. "What makes you say that?" he asked carefully when he was sure his voice would be steady.

She saw straight through him and closed her eyes as her fears were confirmed. Luke silently cursed his inability to lie. She had probably sensed his distress earlier too.

"Leia?" he asked hesitantly. He was about to ask if she was ok but realised it was a pretty dumb question.

She sighed, and threw him a wobbly smile. "I'd hoped it wasn't."

"I don't know for sure, Leia. It's perfectly possible that I'm wrong."

"I don't think so. I had my suspicions. I mean, ten EF76s? Who else could pull that off?"

He didn't have an answer. "Do the others know?" he asked after a while.

She shook her head. "No. At least, not yet. They're currently poring over the list of Grand Moffs. The idea of it being Vader is so ridiculous that it probably hasn't even occurred to them." Her face turned dark. "What concerns me is why. Why is Vader trying to make us think he's helping us? What are we overlooking?"

As if hearing Leia thinking aloud had helped clarify his thoughts, a disturbing possibility suddenly occurred to him. Was this a new tactic to reach him? To make him think his father was on his side, to gain Luke's trust then draw him to the Dark Side?

He said the only thing he could think of. "I'll try and see if the Force reveals anything."

Leia nodded and stood to leave. She looked so troubled that Luke felt the need to reassure her. "It'll be ok, Leia," he said softly.

Of course he couldn't guarantee that – he couldn't tell if they would be able to save Han or if they would ever succeed against the Empire – but she seemed to appreciate the effort all the same. She stepped towards him, and wordlessly, they wrapped their arms around each other and simply held on for a while – two friends so close they were like siblings, both suffering deeply, offering and finding comfort in each other.