Note: This part is rated T. No chapters will be rated "below" T, due to the M content in later chapters. I don't want to lure in any unsuspecting K readers. KWIM? ;) Thanks for the feedback, it's most enjoyable.

"You were careless," Vader stated bluntly, gratified to observe that Quester did not flinch from the criticism.

"Yes, My Lord."

"But you salvaged the moment, and began to confuse him. A good beginning." He continued to scan the starfield idly, hands clasped behind his back. A great sense of personal satisfaction filled him, and he knew he needed to be cautious lest his anticipation distract him from his duties to Palpatine. But the appeal to instead consider his son and the opportunities that lay before them, was great. The boy had promise, and once his plebeian notions were destroyed and his powers woken and harnessed, together they would take control of the Empire and put an end to the destructive conflict that now raged. First Luke would have to be broken, then put back together in a different, more usable way. The challenge interested him, and he was tempted to take over the task from Quester.

"Are you up to the assignment, Doctor?" Slowly he turned his head toward the other. It was a task that would daunt many men, and this was Quester's first assignment of the sort. A test of his worthiness to continue in his newly-chosen field.

"Yes, My Lord," the man repeated, his eyes unreadable.

He continued to study Quester, mentally probing for any weaknesses or doubts. There was none to be found, though the Intelligence officer's slight Force Talent gave him the ability to hide his feelings from a casual probe. At the moment, it was not worth venturing deeper, an action that was as distasteful to Vader as it was to his subjects. The minds of common men were cluttered with useless emotions and irrational conflicts, rendering them disturbing and barely coherent to his superior mind. It would be a relief when Luke's mind was stabilized, when his inconsequential emotions were neutralized, when he could become something of a companion to his father... when this vacuum in which Vader existed became populated by two.

"Carry on, then," he directed quietly, returning his attention to the stars. "And remember," he added, "failure will result in the most unpleasant of consequences."

At first the additional databases turned up the same meager information he had found during other explorations. A listing of "Skywalker, A." on a Jedi training schedule-- a schedule that held enough names to make Luke blink in surprise. A few mentions of "Master Kenobi and Skywalker" on peaceable missions that seemed frequently to end in battles. Then he discovered a new item: a single reference to a sealed "Disciplinary Documentation". The find left him both excited and frustrated, hoping he could track down the contents elsewhere. Perhaps his father had been prone to getting into trouble, a trait that would allow Luke to claim it had been inherited rather than his own creation.

He was engrossed in his exploration when he decided that, so far, the one drawback of his comfortable prison, other than the fact he was a prisoner, was that people came and went as they pleased, with no polite knocking involved. When a bright "Hello!" sounded, Luke snapped off the monitor and swiveled in his chair. "Hello, Captain Starflyer," he greeted stiffly. "I thought you weren't coming back until you were off duty."

"I'm off," the other young man said cheerfully, placing a laden tray on the small dining table.

"Short shift."

"Are you kidding? I was on for nine timeparts. I see you didn't order lunch, so I brought dinner. Hope you don't mind if I join you."

"Dinner?" Luke echoed, confused. "But it's only...it's still morning...isn't it?"

"Not hardly. What were you doing all day that you lost track of time?"

He flicked the monitor back on and pulled up the Executor's chron. It was after 1900. How could that be? It seemed like he'd only sat down a couple hours earlier. "Uh...scanning databases, I guess. I didn't... What did you bring to eat, Captain?" He wasn't particularly hungry, but there was no point in passing up a good meal. He'd had enough Alliance dry rations to last a lifetime.

"Take your choice." Starflyer lifted the covers from both plates, revealing main courses of a white fish and a juicy steak. "And call me Krish. May I call you Luke?"

"Sure," he said uncomfortably, reaching for the steak.

"I figured you'd take that one," Krish said smugly. "I brought wine, too. We're only allowed one glass apiece, but I brought really big glasses."

Luke nodded, uncertain how to respond. He's an Imperial soldier, he reminded himself, and I should not trust him. But the Coruscant native was barely older than him, and he sensed no subterfuge beneath the blithe demeanor.

"Tell me about Tatooine. And don't look at me so suspiciously," the Imperial added with a grin that was reflected in his hazel eyes. "It's a neutral subject! I'm not asking for you to reveal your precious Rebellion secrets."

With a slight flush of embarrassment, Luke nodded, and as he described his homeworld, soon he was lost in memories. After awhile, warmed by the wine and the attention, he described his home and his guardians...and how they were lost forever.

"Now I'm glad I've never been to Tatooine," Krish commented when Luke had finished. "I wouldn't have wanted to be one of the troopers who killed them."

"We probably shouldn't compare notes," he replied heavily. "Maybe we've been in the same battles."

"Maybe." Starflyer stood and stretched his long arms overhead before gathering the dinnerware. "Well, time for me to turn in. I have an early shift tomorrow." He wrinkled his nose in good-humored distaste. "It's lights-out at 2300 for prisoners, so try not to get too engrossed in the computer again."

Nodding, he resisted the urge to behave like a host and walk his 'guest' to the door. "Thanks again for dinner."

Krish waved, tossing a smile over his shoulder before departing, leaving Luke feeling strangely bereft. He missed his friends more than he had realized. An Imperial could never truly be his friend, but maybe Krish Starflyer could be a temporary substitute.

Once again, Luke lost himself in the daunting search for information about his father. So far he had found no clue that hinted Anakin Skywalker might be alive. When he reached a roadblock in the current database, he switched the search to focus on Darth Vader. He could find many excuses to justify his interest, but the truth was that the man both terrified and fascinated him. He wanted to know why Vader wore a disguise, how well he had known Anakin and if he'd really betrayed him, if he had any regrets, and if his conscience ever bothered him. Not all of those answers would be in a computer, of course, but the available information might give him some indications. And learning about Anakin's friend/enemy might bring out more information about Anakin himself.

Thoughtfully, he read the official biographic information...which, oddly enough, contained nothing about Vader's origins, his home planet, or his family. It struck Luke as very strange. If Vader didn't want the truth known, surely he would have planted falsehoods in the official record. But to leave it empty was almost a challenge, as if Vader wanted someone to investigate. Luke supposed he shouldn't take it as a personal challenge-- after all, Vader hadn't known he would appear and be interested-- but still...

The entire detention cell plunged into darkness. Even his monitor screen went black. Leaping to his feet, Luke clutched the back of the chair, wondering if they were under attack. Maybe the Alliance was coming to rescue him! Cautiously, hands extended like a newly-blinded man, he made his way up the steps to the door and pounded on it. "Hello? What's going on?" He kept banging and shouting, and it was not long before the door slid open.

Two stormtroopers, rifles held across their chests, barred his doorway. "Quiet down. What's the problem?"

"Th-the lights went out," he stammered. "Are we under attack?"

"Lights out at 2300 for prisoners. They're back on at 0600." Without any pleasantries or further words, the door closed so fast that he jerked back involuntarily.

"Great. It can't be 2300 yet," he mumbled. "And it's frickin' dark, how am I supposed to see anything?" Continuing to grumble to himself, he moved carefully around the rooms, stubbing his toe on something and stopping to curse ferociously. Why hadn't Yoda taught him how to see in the dark? Taught him something useful, instead of balancing rocks and climbing into--

caves.

The image returned, as clear as the moment he'd seen it. His own face, in Vader's helmet.

Cautiously, he fumbled until he found the bed and lowered himself onto it. What did he have in common with Vader that he should have seen such a vision? The Force, yes, but was there something else? Someone else? Ben had said that Vader had been his father's friend. A good friend? Maybe Vader was lying, and he really had killed Anakin. For the first time, Luke considered the possibility that Vader had known about Anakin's son and had been expecting Luke to turn up one day, eager to avenge his father's death. Is that what the helmet meant, that if he killed Vader, he would take his place? If he killed Vader, he would fall to the Dark Side, just as Vader had fallen when he'd killed Anakin. It was almost too ironic, but it made sense. When he saw Vader again, perhaps he would dare to ask.

The ideas spun around in his head, weaving silvered webs as he attempted to follow them to a logical source. Finally, exhausted, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and allowed them to close, slipping into a deep slumber.