Aboard the Death Star, Prince Luke Organa lay quietly in his cell as a prisoner of war, his body weakened from the brutal interrogation techniques that he had thus far been subjected. His eyelids hung heavily, exhausted from it all, but they were ensuring that he did not get any actual rest. Every time he came close, a droid swooped into his room to poke and prod him more. Sometimes, they did not even ask him any questions, merely tortured him to exhaust him, so that one day they might be successful. Even if he could not sleep, how badly he would love to dream right now, to see his parents in their palace on Alderaan, instead of being captive in these sterile cell walls.

Just as his brain began to slow, his cell door slid open. A woman with fiery red hair, dressed in purple Imperial robes, rather than the tired uniform of an officer, entered. A dark chill came over Luke, just as it had when he had met Vader. The door closed behind her and the woman stared at Luke, formulating, calculating her next step as if this were a game. "On your knees. Don't you know if you disrespect me, you disrespect the Emperor?" she commanded, and when Luke did not immediately comply, she grabbed him by the hair and forced him down. Luke cringed as she held on to him, "I'm not some bumbling Stormtrooper, boy. Don't you recognize a Hand of the Emperor when you see one? Or do they not teach you that a Prince Academy?" Letting go of him, she took a step back, "There, that's better. Isn't it easier when you don't resist, rebel?"

Luke looked up at the woman. He did recognize her now, as one of the many acolytes of the Emperor. When the Emperor bothered to appear before the Senate, they were very often at his side, though no one really knew what their purpose was. Luke had always assumed that they were bureaucrats of some kind, but clearly he had been mistaken. "Mara Jade," he stammered after a moment.

"Good, you do pay attention," she said, gripping a hand around the young prince's jaw line. "We met at a year ago after the Treat of Shu-Torun was signed." As far as most of the Empire was concerned, Mara was what Luke had thought of her, merely a bureaucratic ornament of the Emperor's, strolled around at large gatherings to help gain influence. Everyone had assumed she must be heir to a throne or enterprise of some type, but she had always kept enough distance that no one ever got to see too close. Crossing her legs as she sat down on the cold steel of Luke's cell, Mara motioned to Luke that he could rise from his kneeling position. "Grand Moff Tarkin is most impressed by your resolve. Not many senators can with an IT-O interrogator droid, but you've done just marvelously at keeping your rebel plans well hidden. Unfortunately, that ends now."

Luke shook his head, conjuring up all the indignation he could muster. "I told them everything I know already. If you're looking for plans about this space station, I don't know anything about that. I'm a Prince, not a rebel."

Mara cocked her head sideways, rolling her eyes. "Have you ever heard of the Force, Prince Luke?" Mara asked, removing a glove from her hand. It was unnecessary for what she was about to do, but it created a nice enough effect. Reaching her hand out, she closed her eyes, allowing the dark side of the force to flow through her. She focused her thoughts on the Prince before her, sifting through the inner-reaches his mind. "Where are they?" she hissed, her mind searching through his mind, though she found herself resisted. Mara was a powerful Force user, and had used a mind probe on even Jedi before, but this was something different, something raw.

Luke howled in discomfort as Mara continued her assault. It was as if he could feel her moving around inside his mind, cutting through with the precision of a medical droid, but with a dull blade. She pressed forward, almost frantic now, as she looked for the information, but found nothing. Either the boy truly knew nothing of the rebellion or Bail Organa had been harboring much greater secrets than anyone in the Empire suspected.

Giving up, Mara dropped her hand and Luke crumbled to the ground, whimpering and moaning. Mara Jade had failed at her mission, but discovered something else that would no doubt prove interesting to the Emperor. Without saying another word, Mara marched to the door, scanning her hand to open the door, and exited the cell.


Ezra Bridger, the young thief turned makeshift Jedi Padawan, did his best to be quiet as his master, Kanan Jarrus, spoke with Mon Mothma and the heads of other Rebel cells. The former senator, now the de facto leader of the Rebel Alliance, had the unenviable task of uniting these independent clusters, each of which saw the Empire as a problem, but also envisioned a very different future in a post-Imperial world. At heart, Mothma was a Republic purist, who longed to return to the days before Palpatine's rule. Certainly, she acknowledged there were problems even then, and they had opened the door for Palpatine to walk through, but she believed in a cohesive, democratic galactic rule. That was the only way she saw it possible to maintain an order. There were too many competing interests across the Galaxy; without some oversight, one rogue system could turn a small conflict into an intergalactic disaster.

"Viceroy Organa has reliable information that several Jedi remain, scattered throughout the galaxy. If now is not the time to reach out to them, then when possibly could be?" Mon Mothma suggested to the quorum, to Kanan's visible chagrin.

"With respect, Senator, the Jedi were never intended to be soldiers," Kanan tried to reason. He understood her position of course. The Rebel Alliance could use all the help it could get, but even aside from the concerns he had vocalized, he worried about reaching out in a meaningful way through the Force. Such communication could pick up the interest of the Emperor, giving away their locations.

"I was never intended to be a Rebel," Mothma countered, "But that is where fate has put me."

Ezra understood his master's position, but he could not help but disagree. As long as the Sith were with the Empire, the Jedi would have to be with the Rebels.

The young sergeant Kes Dameron shook his head in frustration at Kanan's reluctance. "The Jedi had no problem being soldiers during the Clone Wars, and that's what started all this," he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "The Empire ordered an extermination of all Jedi. They picked your side for you. Not fighting back isn't an option."

Mon Mothma held up her hand, an attempt to calm the soldier, and regain control of her meeting. "We cannot force Kanan to act against what he thinks is right. If we do that, then we are no better than the Empire," she said reluctantly, disappointed. "Kanan, are you sure there's nothing you can do?"

Ezra wanted to cry out that, yes, in fact, there was something that they could do. They knew Master Yoda, at least, was alive. If they could find him, certainly he would know what the best thing to do was.

"I am sorry, there is not. I will fight for the Rebel Alliance if you'll have me, but I will not lead other Jedi here."

Ezra shook his head, disappointed in his master while Mon Mothma gave him a knowing look, as Kanan turned to exit. Once the doors had closed behind them, Kanan turned to face his apprentice. "You don't agree, do you Ezra?"

Ezra took a deep breath. He tried to respect the wishes of his Master, and Kanan was the closest thing he had to family, but he could not shake the feeling that it was a mistake not to at least try to involve the other Jedi. "I…I trust your judgment," he said reluctantly. Ezra knew Kanan's heart, and he knew that the older man was only doing what he believed to be right. Ezra, however, believed something else was right, and he would follow that through, even if it meant going against his Master's wishes.


For the last 20 years, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been living in a quiet exile on the planet of Tatooine, nestled quietly in the southwestern edge of the Dune Sea. It was painful on so many ways, to have his existence reduced to the emptiness of the outer-rim planet, where he and his old master had discovered a young force-sensitive boy named Anakin all those years ago. He wanted to be helping the growing Rebellion, to serve some greater purpose. Of course, he understood that his role ensuring Leia Skywalker remained safe under the watch of Owen and Beru Lars was of considerable importance, but the truth was, he had grown bored and restless over the years.

He was just Old Ben Kenobi now, retiring his old lightsaber in favor of a long wooden staff and having garnered a reputation for being something of an ornery old hermit. On occasion, he wandered over to the Lars' moisture farm to make sure they were not facing any problems. Owen, for his part, had made it clear that he wanted Kenobi to have nothing to do with the family, and Ben did his best to respect this.

Until now, when a dark sensation caused him to drop to his knees outside his hut. He recognized it immediately, the feeling practically choking him as he gasped for air. Ben Kenobi had stood in the presence of evil many times in his life, but there would always be something wickedly distinguishable about this particular presence that dwarfed the likes of Count Dooku or Darth Maul.

Vader.

Suddenly the decision he and Yoda had made all those years ago seemed so foolish. They had thought the one place that Anakin would never return would be Tatooine, but they had been fatally wrong, and the dark lord was now here.

Regaining his breath, Ben rose back to his feet. There was no time for him to be overwhelmed by the dark side of the force, no time for him to bemoan his bad decision. If Vader was here, then that might mean he knew that his daughter had been brought here as well. That was one father-daughter reunion that Ben absolutely could not allow to happen. He had to get to the Lars' moisture farm before Vader. Rushing into his old dwelling he grabbed his old lightsaber. He turned to leave, and paused a moment, looking at the chest where he had kept Anakin's lightsaber all these years. Hesitating just a moment, he realized that depending on what he found at the farm, he may not be back at his old home for some time, he grabbed his old apprentice's lightsaber and ran out the door.

It was not long after Kenobi's departure that a stolen landspeeder arrived in front of his hut. The dark lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, along with Boba Fett, exited the speeder, lightsaber and blaster in hand, respectively. Vader ignited his light saber, quickly pressing the blade into the clay door. The door quickly melted and crumbled as Vader's feet, allowing him and the bounty hunter to push their way into the hut, which they quickly discovered was empty.

"He was here," Boba Fett muttered angrily, though Vader said nothing. "We just have to wait for him to come back."

Vader knew better. He had felt Kenobi's presence all the way in Mos Eisley when he arrive on the planet, even if he had not fully recognized it then. No doubt his old master had felt it as Vader approached and had abandoned his hut. The question, then, was where he had gone. Beneath his helmet, Vader closed his eyes, after all this time, at last he would have a chance to avenge his loss to Kenobi, to erase the last vestige of his past once and for all. "You've done well, bounty hunter, but I will take it from here." Vader told, exiting the hut and returning to the speeder. "I trust you can find your own accommodations back to Mos Eisley," he said, before taking off, allowing the Force to guide him in the direction of his Obi-Wan.