Chapter Two:
Nine months.
Nine Hoth-frosted, Sith-forsaken months and she still had not laid eyes on her target.
Oh sure, she'd heard all about him.
From day one it had been the buzz of just about every person she'd come across: so that by the end of her first week, Mara Jade had heard more versions of the story than she knew what to do with.
Though they all had a grain of truth to them, she had yet to feel like she'd actually gotten the whole story. She knew the accounts had circulated and, just like in the game of 'comlink', with each ear it reached it expanded and morphed until it became an urban legend the pilots and soldiers told just to have conversation material.
And while everyone knew the end result, the 'how' had become distinctly fuzzy.
She knew his name and his basic description, but that was about it. Her attempts to search him out on the databases kept by the Rebels had ended up almost fruitless; as the Alliance High Command no doubt wanted to keep his name and appearance under wraps for his safety.
Wouldn't want the Empire to find out who fired that blasted shot, now would we? she thought haughtily.
A small pang touched Mara's heart, and though she would never admit this to her master, she was secretly glad that the Death Star was no longer a threat. She took great pride in her job: she was special; one of a kind… and her maser needed her.
Why else would he send her on such a trying mission if he did not trust her?
But even Mara, as cold and ruthless as she could be, knew that the Death Star had been an abomination. The power to completely destroy a planet with one strike of any weapon should not be in anyone's hands.
She shook her head to clear it of such treasonous thoughts, and returned her full attention to the B-wing she was currently performing routine maintenance on. She had been assigned as a technician and mechanic for months now, and while it wasn't her ideal position, she could not deny that she got a good deal of Intel from the pilots and others who crossed her path… frequently.
Mara had of course passed on the Rebel's name to her master, but only after she'd had confirmation that Luke Skywalker was indeed the one to have taken out her master's toy.
She did not know what, but something had trickled through Mara the very first time she'd heard his name. She had no idea what it had been or what to make of it; only that it felt ominously like a… premonition.
But what kind? Was that a good thing… or bad?
Of course it's bad Mara, he's a Rebel… she chastised herself.
Though to be honest, she had to grudgingly admit that the Rebels seemed more of a family group than she'd ever seen among any branch of the Empire, military or otherwise. The camaraderie she'd witnessed onboard first the Jostler and now the Colo's Claw— a ship named for the eel-like sea monster native to Naboo— was… strange.
Not bad, just… different from anything Mara had ever experienced. The men and women in the Rebellion seemed to be closer knit.
Probably because they know they're fighting a losing battle. Mara thought smugly. They should just quit while they think they're ahead… I'm certain my master would show them mercy for surrendering to his will.
Mara sighed. Her master had warned her that this assignment would be long, and that it'd test Mara to her limits… and he had been so right! There were times when Mara felt she was slipping from the cool and collected, ever-in-control Emperor's Hand.
Anytime Mara felt that happen, she'd spend time in the gym until she felt like she had her edge back, no matter how long it took. Then she would meditate— not nearly as deeply as her master, but still— until she felt centered emotionally and in purpose.
The only thing that kept Mara looking forward was the feeling that her time to maneuver to Home One was coming soon. She had been told about three months in to her time in the Rebel Alliance that was where Luke Skywalker went anytime the Alliance had to change bases, or he was needed in the fleet.
That was where she needed to be then, unless by some miracle Fate dropped Luke Skywalker into her lap.
Her master had ordered her to keep an eye on Skywalker, and she would do just that.
She'd attempted more than once to get a transfer, but the officer in charge of that was dragging his heels. Apparently she was too good a mechanic to let go.
Her expression turning sour, Mara began to take out her frustration on a particularly stubborn piece of plating.
Soon, Skywalker, we will meet. Mara promised him silently.
00000
Darth Vader sat alone in his private chambers; the room completely dark save for what little came through the viewport via the stars. His mind was awash in a myriad of feelings and thoughts, courtesy of the new information that had just been procured by one of his spies.
It had taken nine long months: nine months in which Vader had the distinct feeling Palpatine had already known. Why the Emperor hadn't told Vader was uncertain to the Sith Lord, but it was not his place to question his master.
Except on this one occasion.
Vader glanced to the datapad in his hand. It had delivered the news to him that'd caused him to seal himself away in his chambers. All it had taken was two words.
Two… little… insignificant words.
And yet… that pair of words had just turned Darth Vader's world upside-down.
He read them for the hundredth time that evening, as if doing so again would somehow make it null and void… or worse yet, true.
Luke Skywalker.
Never mind the fact that this young man had taken out the Death Star and now led strike after strike against the Empire. Never mind that he was a thorn on the Emperor's side.
Luke. Skywalker.
His son.
He had a son!
The joy he felt coursing through his dark blood almost like a poison to his wretched soul was suddenly overshadowed by an all-consuming, potent rage that shook the furniture all around his room.
Palpatine had lied. He'd lied to Vader!
All these long, tortuous years in which Vader had believed he was the hand that had killed his beloved Padmé. All this time, and she had survived!
For how long, he did not know. One thing was clear: she'd lived long enough to give birth to their child. A long-dead pang of pride touched his black heart in that moment.
He'd been right all along! They were to have a boy!
But still, Palpatine had lied to Vader. He knew he should have expected that… it was what the Sith did. Lies, deceptions, half-truths… those were all part of the Dark Side.
It was expected.
But this!
This was the ultimate betrayal by his master; by the man he'd called friend… almost father… for years before his turn to the Dark Side of the Force. Padmé had not died as a direct result of his actions against her on Mustafar.
The proof was before him in those two words.
Finally, after hours of contemplation Vader pulled up the image that his spy had given along with the name.
He recognized himself in the boy instantly. A mop of sandy-blond hair framed a face with blue eyes Anakin Skywalker had seen every time he'd looked in a mirror. The cleft chin was also Anakin's. Although according to the details on the boy's height and from what Vader could see, the rest of the young man's traits— such as softened facial features— came from his late mother: Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker.
He let his rage simmer, not caring what got wrecked in his temper-tantrum.
When the memory of flying against the pilot above the Death Star's surface came to mind, Vader actually smirked. Luke was certainly a fair pilot if he could keep up with Vader.
No doubt the boy had improved vastly in the ensuing months, especially if he was leading a squadron of his own.
A new kind of pride sifted through Vader then, taking him by surprise. But as it warmed his frigid soul, he found he welcomed it. However, when he thought of Palpatine Vader instantly controlled his emotions, ruthlessly bringing them to heel beneath his iron will.
Plans began to formulate in Vader's mind.
How much did Palpatine know about Luke? Did he know he was Force-sensitive? And a strong one at that?
Vader stirred where he sat, knowing that if the Emperor knew anything more he'd have made getting the boy a priority the moment his name came up.
That gave Vader time.
He would find his son before Palpatine did, and he would bring the boy to his side.
His side, not Palpatine's! And together, as Father and Son, they would overthrow the tyrant who called himself a 'benevolent leader'. Then, and only then, would Vader find his ambitions fulfilled; ones that had begun days before Mustafar.
His proposition made to Padmé two decades previous would be extended to his son. Luke would rule the galaxy by his father's side.
It was the boy's rightful place: he did not belong among the riffraff that made up the Alliance.
With the first stirrings of what one might call hope within his being since he'd put the accursed suit on, Vader walked from his wrecked chambers to deliver orders to his men.
It was time to begin the search for his son.