The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium
Coronet
Corellia
Luke froze. Why was Father here? It seemed a most peculiar place for a Sith Lord to show up. And why was Luke thinking of him as 'Father' as opposed to 'Vader'? They were enemies, not family. Right? Was the fact that Luke was thinking of him as his father a sign of internal weakness? Was Luke yielding to intense father hunger, as an irritating psychologist had told his worried guardians after he drew a picture of a slew of rancors and Krayt dragons demolishing his primary school in Tosche Station when he was but a child of 8? And why was he cogitating on any of this when his fath – when Vader was probably looking for him right now?
At that moment, something strong, powerful, determined, and annoyingly obsessive latched onto Luke's consciousness. Luke flailed in the Force and managed to knock it away, but it was too late. His father had found him. Luke saw the giant cyborg turn his helmeted head directly toward him. They were separated by half a stadium and he must be but a small green and blue dot in a sea of green and blue dots, but still – Vader knew the direction and even roughly the distance between them now.
Luke had to get out of here.
Even as he considered his twelve most likely escape routes, even as the young Jedi hunched down slightly in a pathetic attempt to escape notice, Vader gestured to his stormtroopers, lit his lightsaber, and began striding toward him.
Luke's blood ran even colder. The troopers probably had their weapons set for stun, but Vader's lightsaber could do major damage, as Luke's prosthetic attested. And while Vader would probably prefer to do relatively little harm to him, the Dark Lord would have no compunction about injuring or even killing innocent spectators.
And the stands were jammed with people with nowhere to go if a firefight or lightsaber fight broke out. Luke had a brief, horrifying image of a dangerous stampede of fearful fans and realized he had to do something besides try to slip away. Vader would pursue him with vigor with little regard for the consequences to the crowd.
Another little piece of data about shockball popped into his mind from the conversations on the Angel Wasp. He knew what to do.
Suddenly certain of his path, Luke turned toward the playing field, held out his hand, focusing all his power and attention on the action in the field below him.
Corellian Brothers' Center Kip Zuton knew that the game was nearly over. There were but two of his team still conscious, he and his brother Zip, and five Imperial Thrones were shifting into their classic pincer movement. Zuton had the ball now, but even if he managed to take down one of the Thrones, another would probably successfully snatch the ball and take him or Zip out. And with one player against four, the odds would be essentially impossible to overcome.
But Kip would fight to the end. He was a shockball warrior, and he would not give up until he was unconscious, in spite of the Thrones' amazing players, in spite of the refs clearly favoring the other team.
Kip gathered himself, sidled to his left, leaped to his right, then flung the shockball into the side of the Thrones' right forward guard.
Direct hit! The guard went down, and then to Kip's total astonishment, the ball took an odd bounce and hit the Throne to Kip's left.
And then it took another odd bounce ...
/-
In the transmission booth in the stadium
Lash Unton was screaming into his transmitter.
"And the ball has taken out two Thrones players, quite a lucky bounce there ... I can't believe it, it's another lucky bounce and another player is down on the Thrones team ..."
/
The Millennium Falcon
Han Solo was screaming.
"Chewie, Chewie, look at this. I don't believe it! Another player, that's four! And another bounce ... Chewie, it's ... it's ... it's IT'S A PENTASHOCK! They are all down! It's a miracle!"
Leia Organa, her eyes on the holoscreen, had turned pale.
"Luke!"
/-
Transmission Booth
The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium
Lash Unton was gasping like a beeched burra fish, "It's ... it's ... I can't believe it! I can't! All five Thrones players have been knocked out in one crazy series of bounces of the shockball! The final score, the final score is 15 to 14! The Corellian Brothers have won the shockball championship. I repeat, they have won! And the Brothers' fans are running into the field. Kip and Zip Zuton have carried their team to victory!"
/
The Stadium
Luke Skywalker stood up and carefully lifted his flesh hand to his head. With a regal toss, he threw his silly Brothers' cap and solar glasses on the seat (Aunt Beru had lectured him frequently about littering) and strode directly toward his father, his unlit lightsaber in his prosthetic hand. The way between them was clear now, with the majority of the Brothers' fans surging down into the field to celebrate, as was customary for the winning team when a shockball game had come to an end.
/
Darth Vader stared incredulously as the sea of individuals melted out of his way, allowing him a path toward the vibrant light in the Force that was his son. He had barely noticed what was happening on the field, but he even through his focused attention on Luke, he could sense stunned incredulity from all fans, though some of it was joyful and some enraged.
A slight form was approaching, and with his augmented eyes Vader recognized Luke, striding toward him with the hilt of a lightsaber in his hand. As the boy approached, the saber lit up with a vibrant green blade.
Exactly as Vader had seen in his vision. For a long moment, he allowed himself to relish the image of his son. Luke looked older, stronger, more mature. Determined. He was dressed in garments of dark blue and green which were, Vader realized, the colors of the Brothers shockball team.
But the colors suited the boy. Long ago Padme had worn a dress with those colors ...
The Sith Lord opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, "Skywalker."
The boy was close enough now for Vader to see the boy's raised eyebrows, "Father."
90% of Vader's consciousness suddenly glowed wildly with joy. Father. Luke had accepted the truth!
The other 10% of his consciousness had been wrestling with what was going on around them, and he found himself suddenly extremely surprised.
"You used the Force to cheat on a shockball game?" he demanded incredulously.
Luke looked startled, then slightly defiant, "It was better than the crowd getting panicked and trampling each other."
Vader allowed himself a stab of disappointment. He had hoped that Luke's odd use of the Force would be a sign that his son was drifting toward the Dark Side but no, even his cheating was quite noble.
He suddenly thought of something amusing; this loss would cause humiliations galore for Emperor Palpatine, who always coerced his political enemies to bet large sums of money that the Thrones would lose; bets that gambling operations eagerly took.
"There is no escape," he intoned gravely, even as his stormtroopers began fanning around to surround the boy, "Surrender now."
Luke shook his head, even as he raised his lightsaber, "I don't think so, Father. Let's fight."
And with that, the battle was joined between father and son.
/-
Transmission Booth
Lash Unton was weeping now with joy, and his voice was thick and shaky, "This is a day I never thought would come. I just can't believe it. The Brothers have won, they've won!"
At this point, an aide who had been trying to get his attention for 30 seconds jabbed him sharply in the back, causing him to yelp in indignant astonishment. The aide, frowning hideously, pointed at a side terminal.
Unton's jaw dropped open. The small part of his brain that was still rational took off screaming and hid somewhere in his subconscious mind.
"Ladies and Gentlebeings, we have ... we have a fight that has broken out near the southern end of the stadium. Is that ... is that ... Lord Darth Vader?"
/-
The Millennium Falcon
Han and Chewie were dancing what Leia could only assume was some kind of esoteric Corellian, or Kashyyyk, victory dance. Or perhaps, given how the two kept clumsily bumping into each other, it was a combination of two dances.
Leia was too distracted and distressed to untangle it in her mind.
"Han! Han Solo! Look!"
Solo turned around, his goofy grin melting away into stunned horror.
"Luke!"
/-
The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium
Lower Level
Vendor #552 stood at the edge of a group of very indignant vendors, trying to keep his face stoic, trying to avoid openly shivering in fear. The code cylinder in his inner pocket seemed to burn against his flesh. He was tempted to ditch it in a nearby trash can but he couldn't do that, could he? The data was secret. He couldn't betray the Rebellion that way!
"Aw, come on, Lieutenant," a porcine man in his 50's said in a pleading tone, "You gotta let us out of here! My boss is whipping up Brothers' Championship Winner hats and they'll be ready in 30 minutes. I gotta get out of here and back, I gotta. Please ..."
The lieutenant in question looked harassed and anxious, "I'm sorry, Stu, I am, but I've got orders. We've got a major security issue on Level 2 over on the south side ..."
There was a pause as the officer lifted a hand to press it against his ear.
"Yes, sir," he said into a comlink, "I understand, sir. Yes, we'll cordon that section of the stadium off immediately."
He glanced up now, "Ok, you all, you can leave if you want but you probably won't be able to get back in, you got that?"
There were murmurs and then 'Stu' spoke, "Better out than in, I say. There'll be lots of people wanting to buy hats on the streets. Thanks, Lieutenant."
The officer was busy giving orders to the troopers standing in front of them, and they all marched off.
Vendor #552 heaved a soft sigh of relief and quickly exited the stadium in the scrum of other enthusiastic vendors.
/-
Main level of the stadium
Luke lashed out with his foot and succeeded in kicking his father in the chest. The Dark Lord stumbled back to the floor in surprise.
There was a trill of warning in the Force, and Luke flipped a few meters up onto a platform extending out toward the field. The stun bolt from one of the stormtroopers supporting the Dark Lord barely missed him.
The platform had presumably been set aside for very rich important people, because there were 10 or 12 exotically dressed individuals sitting and standing, holding glasses no doubt filled with expensive liquor. On one side was a long table containing a lavish spread of ornate foods, including an elaborate cake which, Luke noticed distractedly, was decorated in Imperial Thrones' colors. Guess these people weren't too pleased with how the game had ended.
The elaborately robed and coifed man nearest to Luke stared at him with the indignant astonishment of an Imperial courtier confronted with a vine snake in his refresher.
"Do you have a ticket for this section?" he demanded of Luke imperiously.
Luke blinked in astonishment, "Um, definitely not. You might want to move back a little ..."
A sudden thump behind him heralded the arrival of his father, whose heavy form caused the platform to shake slightly.
Amid the screams of dismay from the rich fans, Vader extended his saber toward Luke and took a menacing step forward.
"Obi-Wan has taught you well," he stated coldly in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment at having been kicked on his backside by his son.
"Actually, he didn't have a chance to do much at all," Luke replied calmly, even as he exchanged a few more blows with Vader, "What with you chopping him in half and all."
There were more muffled shrieks from the rich fans, most of whom didn't apparently have the sense of a newborn aak. To Luke's dismay, most were still in the room, apparently determined to watch this duel unfold. And behind them all, two men with holocams were lurking with the obvious intention of catching this entire affair on digital media.
Idiots.
"Then you are even more gifted than I imagined," Vader rumbled. How had the boy learned to fight so well without additional training?
"Master Yoda was an excellent teacher," Luke shot back, "In spite of his peculiar grammatical structure."
Wrath made Vader look red. Or maybe it was his mask.
"Yoda!"
"And to be honest, I learned a lot from you at Bespin," Luke added, gesturing with his left hand toward the table.
In an instant, the entire fluffy cake lifted up and hurled toward Vader.
("My cake!" shrieked a man in a tall gray hat who was cowering in the corner.)
The Dark Lord flung out with the Force to create a shield, with the result that the cake obliterated in mid air, its frosting and cake chunks scattering about the room to impinge on the hapless guests. The screaming and howling of the observers increased, even as Luke began pelting his father with tangoo melons from a bowl.
/
The Millennium Falcon
"Food fight, food fight! Go Kid go!" Han screamed,
Leia's hand was over her mouth, "Oh Luke!"
Her comlink signaled, and she retreated a few feet to get away from the cacophony of noise being generated by her love and his first mate.
"Yes, General Rieekan," she panted with her eyes on the holoscreen, "Yes, we're seeing it all. I have to assume that our agents on Corellia will know to keep their heads down. Yes, I know, General!"
/
The Stadium
With a snarl, Vader picked up the entire food table and tossed it toward the boy, who nimbly avoided it.
The floor was now a sticky mess of fruits and meats and chunks of cake, making it a treacherous surface for fighting.
Again, the two closed and the lightsabers, green and red, clashed furiously. In spite of the Dark Lord's greater reach, the two were very evenly matched.
Luke allowed himself to be pushed back toward the balcony edge, fearful that if the fight got too close to one of the foolish observers, one of them would be hurt or killed.
Below the duelists, one of Vader's elite stormtroopers leaped onto a movable platform which held a large holocam. He successfully raised the platform as high as it would go, aimed at Luke Skywalker, waited for the opportune moment, and fired.
Luke, completely focused on his father's aggressive blows, missed the warning from the Force. The stun bolt hit him on the back just as he was retreating toward the balcony railing. Without a sound, the boy was knocked off the balcony and fell 5 meters to the ground below.
/
Millennium Falcon
"Luke, oh Luke!" Leia cried.
Han, struck dumb with dismay, threw his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her.
/-
The Stadium
And Darth Vader felt a surprising surge of terror in his own heart. Without so much a glance at the Thrones' fans yammering in astonishment, he leaped over the balcony edge and rushed to the side of his son, who lay silent and still on the stadium floor.
"Get a med pod here immediately," he snarled to a nearby trooper.
He dropped down on one knee, sending out an anxious probe with the Force even as he ran his prosthetic hands over the boy's head and body, searching for injuries.
No gushing fluids, good respiratory rate, good heartbeat, no bones sticking through the skin - maybe a few broken ribs.
He heaved a soft sigh of relief.
Luke would be fine.
"Get me some binders!" he snapped to the slightly bewildered aide hovering behind him.
Author Note: Thanks for those of you reading and following and reviewing. And many thanks to my wonderful editor, my husband! Keep in mind this is crack fic so it isn't supposed to make all the sense in the world, but I will address why Luke attacked his father. He hoped the duel would be public enough that word would get back to the Alliance that he had been spotted, and he also hoped to draw attention toward himself so that the Rebel agent could escape the stadium.