AN: Again many, many thanks to everyone who has shown an interest in this tale. I'd especially like to thank all of you who have kindly let me know what you think of the story. I hope that you continue to enjoy it.

All Previous disclaimers apply.


Part 11

Darth Vader stood alone in the cavernous hangar of the empty Alliance base. The rebels had run like rodents, scurrying as quickly as they could from the scene, abandoning non essential equipment and fighters freshly damaged in the Death Star skirmish. It would take some time to search the huge Massassi temple, to explore the abandoned barracks, to rifle through the discarded belongings of the rebels who had lived here and plotted their treason.

Impatience rippled through him, flaming his anger. He should not be here. He should not be tasked with this meaningless chore. He should be with his son; the child that had been hidden away, secreted and concealed from him on a planet that held nothing but pain, that reminded him only of loss and grief and servitude.

Obi-Wan had used his weakness against him, had known that his memories of his childhood and of his mother's death would keep him away from Tatooine.

"No, Anakin. I took Luke to where he would be safe, to where he would be loved as you once were."

He closed his eyes, denying Obi-Wan's words. Would the man never die? Would he be haunted forever by the whispers of a dead man? Would his inner thoughts always be tainted by the tones of his old teacher?

"...brother."

He threw up his inner shields before the memories could coalesce; but still he caught the scent of sulphur, of charring flesh and burning fabric.

He turned as he sensed movement behind him and heard the sound of footsteps approaching across the stone floor.

"My Lord, the troops are ready to move into the base."

He tempered his rage, his frustration and addressed his subordinate. "Locate the command centre, search every centimetre of this base..."

Even the smallest piece of information could create a lead, could guide them to the Alliance's leadership; Organa and Mothma could not hide forever and soon the Princess would be back in a cell where she belonged.

"Anakin, no!"

He emptied his mind, concentrated on only this task and silenced the internal voice. Kenobi would influence him no longer. The sooner he had this done, the sooner he could be reunited with his son and then he would introduce Luke to the power of the Force; the power of the Dark Side. They would stand together against Palpatine and the galaxy would be theirs.

Father and son.

"... leave nothing unturned."

"Yes, My Lord!" The officer bowed his head then gestured his troopers forward and a mass of white armour surged into the base.

ooOOoo

"...hear me?"

"..name?"

"...BP's dropping..."

Disjointed voice echoed in the dazzling light around him and he closed his eyes tried to reach for the calm nothingness that seemed to linger just out of his reach. It teased him with a darkness that promised warmth and peace, that promised to release him from the pain that shrouded him; the tearing of his limbs, the burning of his skin, the piercing agony of every breath as he gasped for air.

"...look at me?"

He forced his eyes open; distorted bodies shifted in the brilliance, strange, cool hands touched him and held him, stroked his brow reminding him of his Aunt Beru.

Aunt Beru? Something... something wrong. My... home... my Aunt... Uncle...

"No, remain still, child."

A small face, large black eyes briefly emerged from the whiteness to stare down at him before melting into the light.

"...deteriorating..."

"...need to intubate..."

A whine, a shrill bleeping and the lingering shadows suddenly rushed him, catching him as he fell, cradling him, carrying him down to oblivious darkness.

ooOOoo

Boba ran a hand across his face, rubbed his cheek, felt the stubble of a few days growth on his chin, and wiped at his tired, stinging eyes. He heaved in a breath of air, listened to the lashing rain and rumbling of thunder from the storm outside as he watched the medics and the droids working to save the boy's life in the other room.

"You seem concerned, Boba."

The bounty hunter turned away from the viewing window, a small smile creasing his lips as Taun We entered the waiting room. It had been too long since he had returned to the place that he once called home. He gestured at the activity next door.

"He's worth a lot of money."

The Kaminoan followed his gesture. "Who is he?"

"Just a job."

Taun We glided up beside him, her head cocking to side as she, too, watched. "It would be helpful if we had some background information. If he has allergies, any familial conditions and..."

"He's a job, Taun We, I don't know anything about him."

An alarm sounded from next door and the activity within increased, sensors flashed red.

"Shit," Fett cursed, Vader's warning echoing in his mind. "Will he live?"

Taun We paused, watching as the boy's heart rhythm stabilised and as machines took over his breathing allowing his body rest. "He requires surgery on his chest wall, his limb joints and fractures. His head injury and blast wound..."

"Will he live?"

She gave a single minute bow of her head. "They are very hopeful. Other than his obvious injuries he is a healthy specimen. His blood sugars and electrolytes are low indicating that he has had little sustenance in the last few days, but his body mass and muscle tone are both good suggesting that he has previously been well nourished. There are no signs of disease, although he is currently fighting an infection from his blast wound.

"Once they have his condition stable they will immerse him in bacta. His recovery may take some time.

Boba thought this over. He'd taken a risk bringing the boy here, but he needed the best medical facilities and Kamino provided that. He still had his father's apartment here, he still had a private landing pad and the Imperial forces tolerated him; after all he was a brother to many clones even if he did not see himself as such.

However, he had no idea who he was hiding this boy from, or why. He may have just brought him straight into the gundark's nest.

"How long before he can leave?"

Taun We turned to him. "I cannot answer that yet, Boba."

He turned away, dropped onto the nearest couch, feeling his exhaustion for the first time, but knowing he had to remain awake and aware and watch Vader's cargo.

"Boba?"

He glanced up at Taun We, at the female he had known since childhood, knowing what she was about to say, knowing what had been done to the boy offended her gentle nature.

"His injuries, Boba. The boy has been tortured."

"My client isn't known for his kindness," he told her.

"The methods used suggest he has been questioned by Imp..."

"I know," he quickly interrupted before she could press him further.

Taun We looked down on him. "Boba, if this boy is a rebel you may have endangered all who have helped him."

"He's not," he stood, crossed to the window again, looking in as the unconscious youth was prepared for surgery. "At least, I don't think he is. Believe me, my client doesn't harbour any Rebel sympathies."

There was no doubt the boy was an enigma. Beaten and tortured by the Empire and then handed into his custody to be healed, cared for, protected. It didn't make much sense.

"You would be wise not to underestimate him."

Once more it crossed his mind that the boy was one of Vader's agents; an undercover operative punished for failure and sent back into the field. The Dark Lord's agents operated outside of convention, outside of organised military or intelligence networks. This boy was young, but age did not mean he was inexperienced or untrained; it could also be a useful tool to put an enemy off guard and draw them in with innocence. The boy would then be free to strike down his unwary target.

It could be that the boy had been planted within the rebellion, but had failed to take out his objective only to be caught by the Empire and mistaken as a rebel; questioned and tortured before his master could intervene. It was the only explanation that made any real sense.

Luke Vader.

He scoffed again at the meandering thoughts, at the ridiculous notion that had struck him onboard Slave 1 when the battered youth had mumbled in his unconsciousness.

"Just as long as he lives, Taun We," he told the Kaminoan at his back. "That's all that matters."

ooOOoo

The Emperor Palpatine stood by the window of his office staring out through the rain that lashed Imperial Centre. His eyes were resting on the far off ruins of the Jedi Temple as they often did as he replayed the memories and savoured the death of the order almost two decades before. He had briefly considered razing the temple to the grounds and building anew on top of its foundations, but he had discovered that the pleasure he had felt that day as the Jedi were slaughter did not wane with time, but instead, it lingered as had the impression of that day within the Force itself.

Again and again the Jedi died, their deaths shadowing the Force until all that was left was dusk and darkness.

He grinned, yellowed teeth reflecting in the window; all was as it should be.

A tone from his desk interrupted his reflection and he turned, robes lightly rustling on the floor as he crossed to the terminal.

"Yes?"

"Majesty, we have the report from the Devastator," the tinny voice of his aide told him.

"Send it through," he ordered and sat down to lift the datapad as the report downloaded. He scrolled through it quickly, sifting through the day to day troop reports, the logistics of running a battle cruiser and the log reports. He carefully read the entries of the pursuit of the Princess Organa's vessel from Toprawa, of the capture of both the ship and the Princess and the order for the Devastator to rendezvous with the Death Star.

He scrolled forward looking for the most recent entries that concerned Lord Vader.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he read about the summons from Vader, the subsequent arrival of his apprentice and his prisoner, the confirmation that the Death Star had been lost, the malfunction in the hanger bay that resulted in the deaths of a pilot and a medic, yet another convenient malfunction of the surveillance equipment in the brig where the prisoner was held, and the rendezvous at Felucia with a Firespray patrol ship flown by an unnamed bounty hunter to whom Vader gave his prisoner.

He pursed his lips in irritation; he had missed something. He took his time, slowly working back through the information, looking for anything, no matter how small, that might give him an indication of what Vader was hiding; what he had been deflecting attention away from.

There was no doubt in Palpatine's mind that it was something about the prisoner; the slave that was being sent back to his master. But sent back to where?

He stopped, noted that the Devastator had captured the Princess Leia's ship above Tatooine and that a detachment of stormtroopers had been dispatched to locate an escape pod that had been jettisoned from the rebel vessel and was believed to be carrying the stolen battle station plans.

Tatooine.

Still Hutt controlled and rife with slavery.

Anakin Skywalker's home planet.

A place where Anakin Skywalker had vowed he would never return too after the death of his mother.

And yet, Vader had been drawn there in the chase for the stolen Death Star plans.

Palpatine closed his eyes, drew the Force towards him and opened his mind to the folds of darkness; searching through flickering scenes of the past for guidance, for a path to follow...

"Anakin, my boy! It is good to see you home safe."

Anakin briefly bowed his head in deference. "Thank you, Chancellor. However, if Master Yoda hadn't showed up neither Obi-Wan, nor I, would have survived."

"Then I must thank Master Yoda for his timely arrival and... "

The Jedi padawan dropped onto one of the couches, his head in his hands. Palpatine frowned with concern and sat opposite him. "Anakin, what's troubling you?"

Anakin shook his head. "I...many Jedi died and I..."

Palpatine waited, knowing there was something more; sensing that his young friend's anguish came from another source.

"I... my mother's dead. I knew she was in trouble, I told Obi-Wan, I... he... said it was just dreams, but it... she was taken by the Tuskans," he heaved in a breath, rushed on before his emotions could overwhelm him. "We... I mean... I went to Tatooine. Mom was gone, married and they said...

"They?" Palpatine asked, somehow sensing this information may be important even if he did not understanding why.

Anakin swallowed, glanced at him with tired, grief stricken eyes. "Lars," he said, hoarsely. "Mom had married a man called Lars. They... have a farm and she... I have a step-brother, step-father. But they couldn't save her. I couldn't save her, so I...

He looked at his hands, tightened them into fists.

Palpatine hid his smile, forced concern into his voice. "What did you do, Anakin?"

The Emperor opened his eyes, shut off the datapad and set it down. He activated the holoprojector and his aide bowed low. "How may I be..."

Palpatine didn't allow him to finish his sentence. "Contact the garrison on Tatooine. I want to know if a Firespray patrol vessel has recently docked and the name of the bounty hunter who flies it. I would also like a full report on the search for the stolen Death Star plans," He paused, added. "I particularly want to know if there is any mention of the name 'Lars.'"

"As you wish, Your Excellency."

ooOOoo

tbc...