"Hidden Danger"
Luke looked through the cockpit window of the Alliance transport and saw the approaching skyline of Coruscant. Amid the countless neon-lit towers and docking hubs, the afternoon sunlight reflected bands of amber, magenta and turquoise off the clouds over the former Imperial City.
What should they call the city now, Luke thought. Alliance City? Coruscant Centre? Rebel-controlled Imperial City? Republic City? He could imagine Han coming up with at least half a dozen unflattering names for this galactic centre of political power.
"You want to find scum and villainy, kid?" Han once said to him, "Try getting a fair shake at the Transport and Freighter Licensing Commission. They might as well put up a sign telling pilots to become smugglers: it's cheaper than bribing those TFL commissioners!"
"Political Backroom Town," Luke muttered to himself. He was concerned that even a change of leadership in Coruscant would be too slow to erase the problems of governing entire star systems. The people would expect results – now. With democracy came elections. With elections came politicians. And politicians needed bureaucrats. The volatile situation was ripe for influence-peddling and corruption. The New Order had used fear to govern the galaxy, but the restoration of the Republic needed to avoid the same mistakes that had led to widespread cynicism about the Old Republic. That corrupted political environment provided fertile ground for Palpatine's machinations and the eventual rise of the Galactic Empire. Luke's mind wandered again towards the pretty – but long-polluted – skyline of the city-planet.
"Commander Skywalker?" the Alliance transport captain said, interrupting Luke's brief respite. "Alliance High Command is summoning senior commanders for a general council. We will be arriving at the main hangar in moments. Shall we divert course for the Imperial Palace?"
"No, Lariss," Luke said. "Stay the course. Princess Leia has informed me that bands of Imperials have not returned to their barracks for surrender and processing, and the armistice expires at dusk. We have work to do." He glanced behind him. An entire regiment of white-helmeted Rebel Alliance troopers looked towards him for orders. Since the Battle of Endor, Luke had led companies of Alliance skirmishers to flush out any remaining Imperials on Endor's many moons. It kept him busy, but the recent events aboard the second Death Star still haunted him. His actions directly led to the collapse of the Empire, leaving a political vacuum that the Alliance would now be expected to fill quickly. The task seemed next to impossible.
Luke wore the khaki battle fatigues of a Rebel infantry commander, but he never wore a helmet. He preferred to wear his black Jedi robe over the uniform. From a distance, enemies would assume that it was a battlefield poncho. His compact BlasTech pistol holster was on his left side, his personal lightsaber on his right.
"Form two companies, Lieutenant," Luke said. "Alliance Intel reports that there is a hostage situation in the recreation facility." He flipped open a HoloMap. Its 3-D display glowed green in the dark transport. "Lieutenant Farbright will take his company here, to the rear in support. Rapid entry only on my signal. I will take the other company to the front doors, but I will enter alone."
"But Commander," Farbright said, "they disarmed the prison guards and are now entrenched. Those stormtroopers are from Vader's Fist."
"Vader's personal legion, the 501st," Luke said. "They expect a confrontation. I intend to deny them that advantage."
When the transport landed, the regiment divided into two companies.
"The recreation centre is two blocks away," Luke said. "Double-time, men. We've dampened all comm sensors in the district. They have no idea that we're coming. Set blasters to stun. You may not even need them." He had commanded troops before, but the responsibility never came easily to him. His men seemed more willing to defer to him because he was a Jedi. He was the Sithslayer, a moniker that the rank-and-file assigned to him two weeks ago. Luke pretended that it didn't bother him, but it did.
They approached a bland-looking concrete structure with no windows. There were docking areas for speeders and smaller transports, one front entrance and one back door. Coruscant's prisons had become overwhelmed with Imperial POWs and the result was the use of civilian buildings as temporary jails. A rec centre was not the best place to jail members of the 501st Legion, Luke grumbled.
"Let's end this," Luke said. He held out his hand, using the Force to swish open the front doors. He casually brushed aside the lone stormtrooper at the security station and crashed his body into the wall to his left. He sensed that two more stormtroopers were hastily barricading the gymnasium's steel doors. Luke closed his eyes, concentrating on the double doors. He held out his palm and Force-pushed the doors apart, blowing them inward and knocking aside the cluttered gym equipment and storage cases. The stormtroopers lay unconscious beneath the barricade's remnants.
"No further, Rebel scum," the legion's ranking officer grunted. He was a pale-faced man with graying hair, in full armour. He held an Alliance-issued pistol against the temple of an Alliance security guard. "We want a transport to an Imperial-controlled world, where we can rejoin the war against the Empire's enemies." The only indication that they were Vader's Fist legionaries were the small '5-0-1' serial numbers on their left shoulder armour plates. None of them had helmets or field packs; their equipment was likely taken away at the POW Processing Centre. More than forty stormtroopers seemed ready to rush the doors and he couldn't tell how many of them were armed. They also had their former jailers as hostages. Their fanaticism, faced with suicidal odds, disturbed Luke.
"Lord Vader is dead," Luke said calmly. The other Imperial legionaries paused and muttered to themselves. This Rebel commander wore no armour and drew no weapon. This man had no fear.
"That changes nothing," the legion officer said. "We remain loyal to Lord Vader's cause. Comply with our demands – or this piece of foodoo dies!" He gestured with his pistol at the Alliance guard.
Luke held out his hands, as if in greeting. Only then did the Imperials see the lightsaber hilt dangling from his belt. He could feel the officer's anxiety grow when he saw the weapon.
"Who are you, boy?" the officer demanded.
"I'm Commander Luke Skywalker." The Jedi sensed a palpable fear in the room. The scores of Imperials from Vader's legion shuddered – the odds had turned against them.
"You are loyal to a dead man, and to a dying cause," Luke said mildly. He could begin to sense the hesitation in the officer's mind. "Release the prisoners and you will be treated with the respect due your rank as an Imperial officer. Your legionaries will be housed in more suitable accommodations, where they will be well-fed and treated fairly."
The officer slowly lowered his pistol and pushed the prisoner towards Luke.
"Tell your men to obey your wishes," Luke said, almost as a whisper. "You want to surrender. To return to your home worlds."
"This man is Skywalker," the legion officer said gruffly to his troops. "The Jedi who vanquished the Emperor and Lord Vader. We are at his mercy. Release the prisoners if you value your lives." The legionaries said nothing and unbound the other security guards. Only four of the stormtroopers were armed: it would have been a pointless skirmish if they had resorted to violence.
"You are a wise officer," Luke said, "and I accept your surrender." The half-dozen Alliance troops who started to trickle into the gym gawked at the unbelievable turn of events. They had never seen a Jedi use his mind powers before. Their commander hadn't drawn his lightsaber, but he had defeated a company of Vader's Fist. It was fascinating to them – and terrifying.
In ten minutes, the Imperials had binders around their wrists and assembled in the docking yard for transport to a more secure facility. Only the legion officer remained, standing meekly beside Lieutenant Farbright.
Luke slowly opened his eyes and the legion officer appeared to be dazed. "Where … where are my men?" he demanded. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the setting sun.
"They are prisoners of the Republic," Luke said. "Imperial officers are a separate class of POWs. Alliance Intelligence will want to interview you."
"You used a Jedi mind trick on me!" the officer snarled. "Filthy Jedi magic! How dare you!" He paced around in impotent frustration. He was weak-minded and he resented that Luke manipulated him so easily.
"I spared your life and the lives of your men," Luke said. "You must accept that the Darth Vader you knew is dead."
"He is dead," the officer began, "because you killed him! Lord Vader wanted order; your Alliance will bring nothing but chaos. So says the Prophecy of the Heir. 'You cannot undo what has been done.'"
"Superstitious nonsense," Farbright sneered. "Sith fairy tales used to scare children. Shall I muzzle him, Commander?"
Luke paused. Sith fairy tales? He had studied the Sith legends in preparation for his attempt to sway his father away from the Dark Side. The Prophecy of the Heir sounded familiar to him.
"He seems to know more than a mere officer should," Luke said. "Take him immediately to Alliance Intelligence for questioning. I understand that they now occupy the Naval Communications Compound. I'll go with you."
When they arrived at the transport, a junior X-Wing pilot scampered towards them.
"Commander Skywalker," the shaggy-haired pilot gasped. "I've been searching half the district for you. I've come from High Command." He presented a datapad directly to Luke.
Luke clicked it and sighed. It was a formal summons from Mon Mothma to attend the general council at the Imperial Palace. Leia was already there. Like her, he had a duty to serve those who fought so long against the Empire. High Command expected his input. He wanted to meditate on the disturbing revelations of an alleged Sith prophecy, but he was a commander in the Alliance forces and a hero of the Rebellion.
The Sithslayer. Luke frowned at the nickname, but not because it wasn't true. He had defeated the Dark Lord of the Sith and as far as he knew, Vader was the last of his kind. If the Sith had other disciples, they could become an even greater threat to the Republic than the resurgence of Imperial forces throughout the galaxy.
"Return with the transport," Luke ordered the pilot. "I'll need to borrow your X-Wing." He set the R7 droid to assume auto-pilot, so that he could use the precious minutes on the trip to meditate.
The spires of the Imperial Palace soared above the horizon. Luke believed that the Battle of Endor would usher in an era of peace, but Imperial insurrections had erupted in a dozen star systems and a robust Imperial armada now orbited Correlia.
You cannot undo what has been done. Luke felt cold when he said the words of the supposed Sith prophecy. He wanted to believe it was nothing more than superstition, but he could sense something was amiss in the Force. A visit to the Imperial Archives would be a logical first step, he told himself.
As he landed the X-Wing in the Palace's ornately tiled courtyard, Luke willed himself to set aside his anxieties. The Alliance will need more than Jedi mind tricks to bring about peace in the galaxy, he thought.
NEXT: Captain Silec commands the Star Destroyer Relentless, the vanguard of the Imperial armada. But the Provisional Imperial Council of senior officers, led by Veers, has already raised concerns about the young captain's ability to lead an Imperial Navy vessel into war. Will his brash actions cost him his ship – or will Silec (and his past) ensure his place on the frontlines when the Rebel fleet arrives?