AN: As always thank you to everyone reading this and many thanks to those commenting. A particular thanks to Callista Skywalker for her support and encouragement when my confidence has wavered.

This story has been unbeta read, but I have edited it so much that I feel I could recite it in my sleep. I hope that any errors I have missed are not too jarring.

All Previous Disclaimers apply....

Insidious

Part 10

The Teacher

The Galaxy was changing.

The patterns of the Force were ever moving, ever changing like sand caught in a desert storm; shifting this way and that as the winds howled. The Kaleidoscope of colours and flickering lights had dimmed and darkened to deep red and orange hues and the threads within the Force, the pathways, the essence of living beings, were folding in upon one another, crossing and criss-crossing each other, as destinies interlaced ever tighter. Soon, too soon, they would be gathered together in a sphere of tangled twine and placed within the hands of a child; a boy still within his teens.

Oh, he could see the boy now. Could see and feel his presence at the very centre of the Force; a beacon, a dark-light summoning, beckoning all to him. The boy was powerful, formidable. The boy was the catalyst, the spark, and it would be his actions, his decisions, that would ignite the explosion that would scatter the threads of lives and destinies to the far corners of the Force and plunge the Galaxy into…

… and it was here that he was stopped. It was here that the barriers slammed down and he could go no further, see no more of future events. It was frustrating, it was… vexing.

Since he had first stepped onto the pathway of the Sith, Sidious had been able to predict future events or manipulate them to meet his ends, his goals. It had enabled him to orchestrate a war, it had given him political power, placed him at the pinnacle of the galaxy and he had used his powers, both political and Force, to wipe out the Jedi Knights and bend the galaxy to his design, his whims.

Until the boy was born. That one, new and tiny, presence within the Force had built a wall over which Sidious had been unable to scale. The unknown future was fast approaching; it was puzzling, irritating that the power to see the future had been blocked to him, but…

…that boy was his. He had sought out that presence, he had tracked and traced the child for over a decade and had found him where the Jedi had found his father.

In the gutter on Tatooine.

Poor, disadvantaged, and with an innocence that begged corruption.

The child had grasped at his offered hand, had allowed Sidious to draw him to his feet. The boy had been an eager student, a quick study, and the Dark Side had welcomed him, had nestled warmly within him, coiled and settled within the heart of the one being whose existence mattered to an entire galaxy.

He controlled the boy and, thus, he maintained his control on the galaxy and the future of it; no matter how unseen it remained.

It was almost time, he could feel it; it was almost time to let loose the reigns and turn the boy upon the galaxy as he had with the boy's father.

He would enjoy watching it burn.

"Excellency?"

Sidious drew in a breath, knowing that he had been silent too long and knowing that only one man felt secure and comfortable enough to question that silence. Part of it was Tarkin's current location of millions of light years away that gave the man a false sense of safety. However, the larger part was the man's insufferable arrogance and misguided belief that he was somehow favoured by his Emperor.

Sidious favoured no-one. He merely used and manipulated those with talents he needed.

"Yes, Tarkin," he barked, letting his ire be seen and heard, let it be carried over the comm waves and hologram transmission circuits. "I have heard of the loss. It is most unfortunate."

The Grand Moff didn't even have the grace to blanch at his Emperor's anger. "I have dispatched Lord Vader to lead the investigation into the theft, Excellency. The schematics for the Death Star will be found."

A flicker in the Force… something…

Sidious mouth turned down in displeasure as he gazed upon the tiny hologram image of his Grand Moff; Tarkin treated Vader like his personal lapdog, took liberties with the Dark Lord's duties. "Lord Vader was not stationed on the Death Star to follow your order's Tarkin."

Tarkin bowed in recognition and understanding. "My apologies, Sire, I did not explain well enough," He stood straight, hands held tight behind his back. "Lord Vader volunteered."

Of course! Vader, like Anakin Skywalker before him, was a man of action. Vader detested being in one place too long, he would have jumped at the chance to hunt those behind the audacious theft and Palpatine almost pitied the Rebels, for once Vader found them they would, before their deaths, understand what true suffering was.

Another flash… a warning? Something to do with Vader?

"And what of the demonstration, Tarkin?" A quick change of subject, the matter of the stolen plans no longer a concern...

…another spike…

…"Have you decided on a system?"

Tarkin licked his lips before speaking, a sure sign of nervousness; which was unlike him and Sidious had the impression that Tarkin was about to propose something unorthodox.

"No, Sire. I had considered the systems you suggested…. However, I feel they are too far into the Rim. I believe that for an effective demonstration, one that the population will never forget, we should have a target nearer the core. However, the senate will…"

"Leave the Senate to me," Sidious rasped, waving him silent. "Do you have a target in mind?"

"Not as yet, Majesty," Tarkin explained, tightly. "I had thought it should be one whose representatives opposed the Empire's expansion, perhaps one who was critical of your executive order for species segregation on human settled worlds, or one who openly rebelled in the vote for military growth and development and…"

"You are speaking of Chandrila, Alderaan or Dac."

"Among others, Majesty," Tarkin conceded. "These worlds and senators have grown to feel safe in their position in the Empire and in the Senate. They believe they are untouchable, full of their own self-importance. If we eliminate them, eliminate the loudest of voices, then the choir behind will fall silent.

"The galaxy will understand that no-one is untouchable. Fear, Majesty, as you often cite, is a great motivator, but it is also an effective method of control."

Tarkin was right, of course. A demonstration of their new weapon required it to be seen and the destruction of a backwater world that no-one had heard of would not resonate within the population. It required a public display, something that all species would never forget, something so awful, something so incalculable that it would remain forever ingrained…

No…

…Seared… burned….

…within the consciousness of the Galaxy. Something that would be passed down from generation to generation for centuries to come.

"You have my approval, Governor," Palpatine conceded, his hand already reaching out to cut the transmission, "but choose wisely."

The Emperor rose from his desk and turned to the massive window that took up the entire outer wall of his office. He stood silently gazing into the night, watching the flashes of lightning in the distance as they silhouetted the massive towers that were Imperial Centre. There was a warning in the Force, something about the Death Star plans, something about Lord Vader. The ochre in his eyes flared with his suspicions.

He turned back around, activated his comm, barked out, "Where is Lord Vader's ship?"

"One moment, Excellency," the nervous voice of his secretary announced, a young man newly in post after the sudden death of his predecessor.

Palpatine impatiently waited… his ire growing at each second of silence. Then…

"Sire," the voice returned. "Lord Vader's ship had just reached Tatooine, they are engaging in…"

Tatooine…

ooOOoo

The Jedi

The Galaxy was changing.

He could feel it, he could sense the vibrations deep within the Force no matter how dark it had become. There was something coming, an event of significance was fast approaching. He had felt it for months now, that feeling of impending destiny… that feeling that something was going to happen, something that would change everything.

Obi-Wan sighed as he poured himself a cup of water from his refrigeration unit and sat on his bed in the silence and solitude of his home.

Master Yoda had been the one with the wisdom of precognition, but he would always caution that the future was ever in motion and what was seen may not be what necessarily came to pass.

"When seeking to change events seen within visions, cause them you may. Listen to the Force, my young padawans, and guide you it will."

The Jedi smiled into his cup at the fleeting memory as he took a drink, only to grimace at the taste of sand and the feeling of grit on his tongue; his vaporator badly needed a new filtering system.

He had never been gifted as Yoda had been, as Anakin had been.

He closed his eyes. Again… Anakin.

It always came back to Anakin… and his son.

He took another sip of water, his eyes on the trunk that still held Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber and he had to fight the urge to open it and withdraw the weapon once more, to turn it in his hands and suffer the pain and anguish of Mustafar all over again. He smiled, silently laughed at himself; nineteen years of exile, nineteen years of watching over young Luke had turned him into quite the masochist.

He had not spoken to young Skywalker for almost two years, since the day he had found him gravely injured within the abandoned building. Owen Lars had forbid him to see Luke and even Beru refused to speak of what had happened.

It had been Biggs Darklighter who had sought him out a few days later and filled him in on Luke's story.

"Idiot said he had heard something… thought it was scavengers stealing from the farm. He said he chased them before the winds really took, but lost them. 'Said he had got lost, found the building by chance and didn't check before he entered.

"Tusken's jumped him, beat him, stuck him with the gaffi stick when he tried to fight back. Then sat and watched him while waiting for the winds to die." Darklighter shrugged, grimaced. "Luke thought they were taking bets… you know… to see what died first; the winds or him.

"I guess he got lucky…" Biggs picked up a pebble, turned it in his palm before throwing it with some force out across the sand in front of Ob-Wan's home.

"Is there something wrong?" Obi-Wan queried, mildly, thinking Luke's story sounded plausible, but also thinking that a child raised on Tatooine would not blindly go racing out into a dust storm.

"I'm leaving for the Academy," the boy had said with some concern in his voice, "who's gonna watch out for Luke now?"

Obi-Wan had watched from a far. He still visited the farm, he still caught glimpses of the boy with his guardians. He had watched as Luke helped maintain the property. He had watched as Luke snuck out to meet his friends. He had watched as Luke argued with his uncle and when his aunt placated him. He could feel the boy's anger, his frustrations, but nothing that he would not otherwise feel in the Force from any teenager who had been reprimanded by an adult; a flare, a hot simmer, that died away with his aunt's wisdom.

Luke's life was like that of any Tatooine youths; toil and sand with the sporadic dangerous excitement of skyhopper racing.

That the Dark Side still circled Luke like a flight of carrion birds was undeniable; but the youth himself seemed oblivious. All seemed as it should be… and yet that made Obi-Wan all the more uncomfortable; had his long exile affected his own Force abilities?

With a grunt…

… Force, he was getting old…

…Obi-Wan stood and, carrying his glass, he crossed to the open doorway of his home and gazed out across the darkening sandscape. Behind him the suns were setting, the shade of the mountain ranges engulfing his home and casting ever longer and darker shadows across the sands, the peaks of the rocks cast like deformed talons reaching out in the direction of the Lars farmstead.

He frowned, the hair on the back of his neck prickling in the cooling air as the Force whispered its warning.

Something was coming.

ooOOoo

The Father

Tatooine.

Always Tatooine.

He still dreamed of this place.

He dreamed of his mother. He dreamed of her weeping. He dreamed of her death. He dreamed of the plot of sand where her dry bones now lay.

He dreamed of hot suns and dust. He dreamed of hard labour, of grazed hands and blistered fingers. He dreamed of thirst and hunger. He dreamed of a rod across his back.

He dreamed of his son. He dreamed of flying through gullies in a beat up skyhopper. He dreamed of sitting with his back against a pourstone dome as night descended and shadows reached across the sands. He dreamed of blond hair, blues eyes and a ready smile. He dreamed of an innocence that was lost. He dreamed of darkness hidden within the brightest of lights.

Vader stood on the Bridge of the Star Destroyer gazing out at the sphere that was Tatooine. Tan sand and russet hues reflected the light of the twin suns under which he had grown; under which his child now lived and toiled and waited.

How apt it was that Leia Organa had fled to this world.

Tatooine.

Even without opening himself fully to the Force he could feel his son's presence… and Kenobi's. Is that why the Princess had raced here after intercepting the Death Star plans? Was she searching for the Jedi? Did she hope to persuade the old man out of his exile to join the Alliance's fight against the Empire?

He snorted behind his mask; Kenobi was nothing now.

He pushed back his hatred, dampened the sudden rush of anger at the mere thought of the Jedi. Kenobi had not even recognised the darkness growing under his watch. Like the Jedi of the Republic he had not seen, or recognised, what was happening right before his eyes. The Dark Side hid everything. His master had been right; let Kenobi live in ignorance and let him die with the knowledge that he had failed once more.

Vader smiled behind his mask, old scars catching and pulling at his lips.

"My Lord!"

Vader could feel the man's nervousness as he approached him, "What is it, Captain?"

"We have a communication from Imperial Centre, the Emperor wishes to speak with you." The man was by his side now, a tick at his left eye betraying his nervousness at having Vader on his bridge.

He was on a ship orbiting Tatooine… of course Palpatine wanted to speak with him. "Open a channel in my quarters, ensure full encryption."

"Yes, My Lord!"

Vader turned away from the planet, away from the man, preparing himself for his conversation with Palpatine. "Once I am done, set a course to rendezvous with the Death Star. Inform the Grand Moff that I am bringing him a guest."

The Captain nodded sharply as Vader flowed past. "It shall be done, my Lord!"

ooOOoo

The Pupil

Luke lay on his bed with his hands behind his head gazing up at the ceiling replaying the conversation he'd had with Biggs only a few short hours ago. It had been a surprise to find him here, but interesting all the same; Biggs was joining the Rebellion. Biggs was planning to jump ship, turn his back on the Empire and join the Rebel Alliance.

"The Rebellion is spreading, Luke, and I want to be on the side I believe in."

If only Biggs knew to whom he spoke, he wouldn't have been so forth coming with information.

Now Biggs was gone again, had left Tatooine for an unknown fate and was unlikely to return… and he was still stuck here.

Stuck on this miserable planet as the Galaxy swayed on the edge of….

…something. Something was happening, something was changing. He could feel it in the Force, he could feel the vibrations within his power, could feel the patterns of the Force weaving together, interlacing around him. He could hear the whispers within that teased him with an untold destiny.

How much longer was he to be left behind and ignored, how much longer was he to watch from afar before he could take up his rightful place with his master and his father?

He blew out a breath. Annoyed by his thoughts, annoyed at himself for brooding like an immature teenager and not the Sith he should be.

The ships he had seen, the battle he had seen, the fight that the others at Tosche Station had mocked and dismissed… that was Biggs' Rebellion, that was his father's ship. He knew it. He had felt his father's presence. Had felt Darth Vader's coldness bludgeon through the Force, could still feel it at the edge of the Force now… but still his father was leaving him here.

Agitated, on edge, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

How much longer was he to pretend to be something he was not?

He was ready.

He was ready now!

He had maintained his training. He had practiced his katas until his legs were weak and his hand's blistered. He had immersed himself into the Dark Side, allowed his hate and anger to drive his exercises, while still shielding himself from the Jedi who insisted on hovering around him. He had honed his skills behind the controls of the skyhopper. He had lived the life of a farm boy desperate to leave this barren rock and applied for the Imperial Academy, and had then pretended to capitulate to his Uncle and withdrew the application before his master or father found out.

He had spent hours reading all of the information on the datapads that his father had given him, had committed names and backgrounds and profiles to memory, had secreted away the small holoprojector that had been hidden in an interior pocket of the bag his father had tossed to him almost two years ago at their last meeting.

After his father had left and, ignoring the dried blood… his blood… that still marked the floor, Luke sat down, upturning the bag, emptying out several datapads into the sand. He frowned at them, lifted them one by one and turned them over in his hands.

What the hell?

When he had heard the clatter inside the bag as he caught it, he'd hoped for a lightsaber, or even parts of one, but... datapads? Licking his lips, he lifted the nearest device. Wiping sand from the screen, Luke ran his thumb across it bringing up a list of the datapad's preloaded information.

Imperial Military:

Command Structure

Navy

Army

Air Divisions

Intelligence

Military Law…

Yawn…

Luke switched it off, picked up another and flickered through it, another frown creasing his brow. It was a list of names.

Wiluff Tarkin

Cassio Tagge

Conan Motti…

…. And something called The Death Star Project.

Luke swiped a finger across Wilhuff Tarkin and was met with a profile picture of a thin faced human man. He skimmed the information below the picture… a biography of…

Something whistled and vibrated within the bag. He searched through it again, found an interior pocket and withdrew a circular holoreceiver. He grinned… latest model, too!

He took a breath, activated it, eyes widening as a pre-recorded message began to play.

"My son," the image of his father intoned, and Luke couldn't help but grin at the acknowledgement, an echo of the one that his father had uttered a few short minutes ago before he had left.

"My Son!"

"It is vital that the information I have given you is never found. Not by your guardians, not by Kenobi, and not by our master. You should familiarise yourself with the intelligence, for one day it may save your life… or end it.

Know your enemies, Luke. Study them. Take Particular note of Wiluff Tarkin. He is no Sith, but he eyes the throne and could be a threat to us…"

Luke lifted the datapad and gazed at the thin faced man.

"…The Force is shifting, changing, an event awaits us all and you are at the centre of it, of that Palpatine is certain. You must be prepared to act, to do what is necessary to strengthen your connection to the Dark Side… only then will you be strong enough to defeat Palpatine and take your place at my side."

The hologram winked out and no matter how many times he tried to replay it, to retrieve it, he failed.

"…take your place at my side."

Somehow… somehow his father had known what his choice would be.

Feeling elated, feeling accepted, he pushed the device into his pocket and looked down at the datapads. He couldn't leave them here, his master may return at any time and if they were hidden here, Sidious may sense something amiss were he to return. Gathering them up he returned them to the bag and, following his father's footsteps out of the building, he tossed the bag into the back of his landspeeder.

He stood for a moment looking out over the flats, watching the heat haze shimmer on the horizon, seeing the mirror image of the sky, the mirage, that many a thirsty traveller would mistake for water.

The teenager grimaced as realisation struck; this was a dangerous game he had begun to play. He was to be the faithful nephew, the simple farm boy, the attentive son and the obedient servant. He needed to reflect what those around him excepted him to be, he had to be the mirage.

His life depended upon it.

Luke rose, paced his room, nervously glancing at the alcove hewed into the rock of his bedroom wall that served as his closet. He had deepened the space, created a false floor under which he had hidden all the information his father had given him. He knew he should have destroyed it. He should have just read each device and then crushed it, discarded it, but something had stilled his hand. He knew the risks he had taken bringing them into his home, but Beru and Owen Lars rarely ventured into his room now that he was grown and they and the holoreceiver were all he had of his father.

"Luke!"

He winced at his uncle's shout.

"Luke!"

"I'm coming!" he yelled back, allowing his frustrations to colour his tones; he was after all a teenager.

He jogged down the steps from his room, sauntered across the atrium toward his uncle who was waiting for him near the stairs to the farmstead entrance. He glanced up at the rumble from above, the familiar sound one of roughly worn engines and loose caterpillar treads.

Jawas.

"Come on," his uncle ordered, ignoring the sour look on his nephew's face, "you can help me look at the junk they're offering, see if they have any droids."

ooOOoo

To be concluded...