Chapter Eleven:
(A/N 1: This chapter takes a turn for the Darker side of things, so be aware.)
Lars had been at the Imperial Palace for a week when his mistress made her escape attempt. And in those seven days, since he needed something to do— and he figured he could maybe glean information for the Rebellion's use— he'd begun sneaking around.
Since he was a droid it was far easier because few people stopped him, assuming that he was just doing his job.
Thus, the day before Shmi's attempted flee of Imperial Center, Lars stumbled quite by accident over a file that would charge the Rebellion with fear, but also stir them to action, maybe far sooner than the Empire had planned for them to.
In the chaos of the escape attempt, Lars found it quite simple to sneak into a communications center and send a secure message to Master Luke, and then erase any and all evidence of his being there.
Now it was up to them to decide how to proceed with what he found, while Lars did his best to relocate his Mistress, Shmi.
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Emperor Palpatine sat on his throne, fingers steepled against cracked lips as he thought of his next move. He had played 'nice' with the girl before, but now she would suffer. And he knew just how to do that, thanks to a little tip from a loyal Imperial trainer.
Also, his patience with her father was wearing thin. He had suspected Luke Skywalker wouldn't hesitate to rescue the girl, but instead he'd taken his time. And while that gave Palpatine more occasions to do what he wanted with the girl, his main interest was getting to her father. That had been his purpose in bringing her here to begin with. Her training had been a side-note, something to keep her busy and out of his immediate path.
What the Jedi was waiting for in coming to his child Palpatine did not know, but he did know was done being patient. He would draw the young Skywalker to him through his little girl. And Palpatine would enjoy every moment of it.
A gleeful cackle reverberated about the cavernous throne room as he awaited the arrival of his young charge.
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Luke recalled waking to an urgent, top priority message from Lars that morning. And, when he'd opened it, he recalled Mara having to slap his face a few times to get him to wake up from his shocked daze.
But that all paled in comparison to what Alliance High Command was doing now.
Not that he blamed them... to a degree. But still this was ridiculous: they were adults. Couldn't they act like it?
"A SECOND one!?" Madine was roaring. "They built another one?!"
"We must act immediately!" Ackbar stated in his gravelly voice. "We must strike before the Emperor learns we have this information!"
"But we don't have the fleet amassed, that would take too long!" Rieekan was arguing.
To their credit, Mon Mothma and Leia were sitting silently, their faces pale and drawn as they processed the information too.
The file Lars had smuggled out to the Alliance was both a blueprint and location of a second, even larger Death Star. The only bright side Luke saw in its current existence was its incompletion. The weapons systems especially were not yet online.
When he could take their bickering no longer, Luke slammed his fist on the table.
"Gentlemen, enough!" Luke barked.
Several shocked gazes instantly lifted to his face, Mara's included. He rarely lost his temper like this.
"Thank you," Luke said in a calmer voice once he had their attention. "There is no need to lose our heads. We have been given a golden opportunity here, and we would be fools to waste it, or to throw it away with a careless act of aggression."
He felt Leia's impressed sense, and when she mentally encouraged him on, he did so. "We should send a small strike team, one who can infiltrate and blend in. They could set up timed explosives or something like that around key points in the superstructure and then clear out the station with a false emergency..."
"Clear it out?" Madine interrupted, narrowing suspicious eyes.
Luke gave him a pointed, thunderous look. "There is no need to waste hundreds if not thousands of lives, Imperial or otherwise, General."
Madine opened his mouth to speak, but Luke went on over him. "The point is; a strike force from the navy would instantly alert the Emperor to the fact that we have these plans, and are currently doing something to stop his weapon from being finished. But a smaller surgical force would be able to get onboard."
"And who would lead this strike force?" Mon spoke for the first time. "You?"
"No." Luke shook his head. "Mara and I will be leaving soon for Imperial Center. As you all know the Emperor has my daughter, and the time to rescue her is very, very near."
Rieekan leaned forward. "But what about the Death Star?"
Luke looked to him. "What point is there in eliminating this Death Star but not taking out the source of all these super weapons? He will just build another... or something else entirely. He won't stop: he will continue to make his monstrosities. So you tell me how going after the Emperor and Darth Vader isn't just as, if not more important?"
Rieekan sat back with a nod, and this time Leia leaned forward. She and Han— the final member of the emergency meeting— had been trading looks for the last several minutes.
"Han and I will lead the strike force," she said firmly.
Luke nodded in support, feeling Mara do the same, and Mon turned surprised eyes on Leia.
"You?"
Leia frowned. "I can handle it. And Han is good at getting into places he shouldn't be." She threw her husband an amused glance, to which he offered his famous lopsided grin. "We can lead the team."
"It would probably be a good idea to have a small collection of ships ready to fight if the strike team needs an evacuation or something." Rieekan looked to Ackbar and Madine.
And so the plans continued until it was set in stone that Leia and Han would select a team to take to Endor, where they would infiltrate and eventually destroy the Second Death Star.
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Shmi walked beside Darth Vader— who she now knew to be her grandfather— as he escorted her back to the Emperor. Fear assaulted her, but it was unlike what she'd felt the first time; because this time, she knew she was in deep trouble.
She looked to her grandfather pleadingly. "Why are you taking me back to him?" she asked. "He'll be so mad at me!"
"I know," Vader said simply.
Shmi cringed. "What will he do to me?"
"Whatever he wishes," Vader replied shortly.
Ever after she'd gotten him to spare that pilot's life he had been on a short fuse. The kind streak she'd known from him while he helped her land the TIE was gone, as if it had never existed. Now he seemed to be angry that it had shown its ugly face in the first place.
If Shmi didn't know any better, she would think that he was pawning her off as quickly as possible to be free of her influence. Well, she wasn't done with him yet.
"He's going to do terrible things to me!" Shmi shuddered with fear, but kept walking, knowing from experience that if she stopped or tried to retreat, he'd simply drag her with the Force.
"Then maybe you shouldn't have tried running!" Vader snapped suddenly, whirling on Shmi and stopping her heart with utter terror for two entire beats as he loomed threateningly.
Shmi trembled, swallowing heavily. "B-but I don't want to be here! I don't want to be evil! I don't want to kill people!" Shmi gave him her most pleading look. "P-please! You can still get me out! You're Darth Vader! You can do anything!"
He actually seemed to pause at that, but then he pulled back. "I used to think so too, many years before. But it is now time to face the consequences for your choice. You are old enough to understand that, Child."
Shmi glared at him, tears in her eyes. "If you are going to just give me up, the least you could do is use my name... Grandfather."
With that, she bowed her head and marched ahead of him, letting her tears flow. Oh, how she wanted to reach out to her father again! But she had a hunch that the Emperor would sense it this time, and Shmi didn't want her father to get hurt because of her.
So she cried until they reached the ornate double doors to the throne room, and then she resolutely lifted her head and walked toward her fate. She wondered if Mara would be proud of her in that moment and she took courage then.
Thus, with head held high, Shmi walked before the Emperor and then stood tall and defiant. If Vader was no longer going to help her, then she would no longer play by his rules. She would defy the evil Emperor to her dying breath.
However, what she hadn't been expecting was to see Venussia standing with a pair of Crimson Guards off to the side of the throne. From the seat of power, a haggard and disgusting face greeted Shmi, and this time she let her revulsion show plainly.
"Welcome back, My Child," Palpatine told her smoothly.
"I am not your child!" Shmi snapped. "I never have been and I never will be!"
Palpatine lifted a brow. "Indeed. I hope you enjoyed your little jaunt, Child, because that will be the last time you see the sun for a long, long time."
Shmi frowned, nervous. "What does that mean?"
Palpatine's lips lifted in what she supposed was a smile. "You will find out, Child: but first."
He gestured to the Crimson Guards, and they brought Venussia forward. She looked sickly and weak outside of her cell, and Shmi realized that she'd been ill the whole time.
"I believe your birth mother instigated your escape, and so she will be executed for you to witness." The Emperor sat up eagerly, and Shmi watched in growing horror as he lifted a hand. She and Venussia had never been very close, but she was still Shmi's mother, and she loved her for that. Besides, she shouldn't have to pay for Shmi's mistake!
"No!" Shmi started to move to get between her mother and the Emperor, but a black glove on the shoulder stopped her. "Please, don't!"
Venussia lifted her head proudly, but shot Shmi a look. "Remember your promise to me. Stay stro..."
Her sentence died as the Emperor clenched a fist and her face instantly went white. Venussia gurgled once, and then collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
"NO!" Shmi screamed, and she used her newfound skills to break from Vader's grip to charge the evil man who'd just murdered her birth mother.
She felt her grandfather's disbelief in the back of her mind, but the Emperor merely let her get close and slap him in the face before he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her so hard to the floor that she bit through her lip when her teeth clacked together.
"You are MINE!" he all but roared at her, making Shmi shy back from his sudden vehemence. He was in her face, and his breath was foul; but it was his murderous ocher eyes that made her tremble, locked as they were on hers. "You will do as I ask, or I will rip everything you hold dear from you!"
Shmi knew she was in for it now and, with nothing else to lose in that moment— or so she thought— she spat in his face. "I hate you! You will never have me!"
She'd thought he had iced her to the bone already with his fierce anger, but when he suddenly went calm and smiled just so at her, she knew she'd been mistaken. Because this... this abrupt calm from the man chilled Shmi to her very core.
"Good, Child. Let your hate fuel you," he purred, and Shmi felt something brush against her mind.
She gasped when she realized what he was doing, and she immediately wrestled her negative emotions under control before she lifted her chin in defiance again.
"Never."
Palpatine shrugged. "No matter; but you will still serve me a purpose, whether you like it or not."
Shmi didn't like the sound of that.
"You will be taken to sublevel twelve, where I have prepared something very special just for you, Child. Your fear and suffering will draw your father to you... and by extension to me."
Shmi gasped again. "No!"
"Yes." He motioned to the same Crimson Guards who'd guarded Venussia. "Take her there at once."
They grabbed Shmi by each arm, and she struggle mightily. "NO! I won't let you!"
"And you plan to stop this how?" the Emperor wondered with amusement.
"I... I'll..." Shmi fumbled for something to say.
"You will comply, because you are my servant, my slave!" Palpatine snapped. "I will be there shortly to see you."
With that, Shmi was dragged kicking and screaming into a private turbolift along the hall that took her so far down she knew she'd never get back out. Her mind was awhirl with two things: what were they going to do to her? But, more importantly... her father would be walking into a trap! Again!
She had to warn him!
Shmi was about to do just that when she realized that the walls of the turbolift were starting to close in on her, much like the vents had. Shmi's breathing quickened, but she clung to what her father had said.
Calm down, take deep breaths. The walls aren't actually moving. You are safe in there. It's just your mind playing tricks on you.
... walls aren't moving... trick of the mind...
The lift settled to an ominous halt and the doors opened silently, permitting her a view of dark, scary hallways with few doors and even fewer lights. Shmi instantly felt terror flood her, and she began to struggle harder.
"Please! Please don't!" she cried, digging her heels in until they finally just picked Shmi up and carried her.
They brought her into a room, and to the girl's horror they began strapping her to a table. She saw a man wearing a heavy apron enter soon after, and when he walked up to her, taking Shmi's chin and moving her head, she snapped her teeth at him.
He chuckled darkly. "She's got some fight in her... but that won't last."
He struck Shmi across the face hard enough to make her see stars, and then the Crimson Guards took up spots by the door while the man was left to do what he wanted with her.
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Erdric Flivven, pilot in the Imperial Navy, took a deep breath as he pulled back on the hyperspace levers. His small, borrowed ship reverted from the mottled mass of hyperspace and into the open space of the galaxy in the Outer Rim.
He had spent many long hours of the night and day deliberating on his next move.
'The child had saved him' is what kept running like a mantra through his head. The little girl had faced down Vader, knowing the dangers, and had pled with the armored giant for Erdric's life.
Now she was in the grips of the Emperor, facing her punishment for trying to escape. And it was ultimately his fault. He had been the one to stop her, and now she was in sublevel twelve of the Emperor's Palace.
To say he was gnawed at ceaselessly by guilt was an understatement, but he had finally decided to do something. Using a huge chunk of his salary, Erdric had gone to an information broker he knew for a fact was trustworthy— a man called Talon Karrde— and had gotten the location of the Rebellion's main fleet, and by extension Luke Skywalker.
He had been given coordinates and now here he was, praying the Rebels didn't blast his ship on sight. However, his ship was instantly surrounded by a flight of X-wings, and a voice came over the speaker.
"Imperial ship, you are surrounded with no means of escape." The voice was definitely male.
"This is Erdric Flivven, and I have no intention of fighting," he said sincerely. "I wish to speak with Luke Skywalker at once. It is exceedingly important."
There was a shocked silence, heavy with tension as the pilots deliberated, probably speaking with their leaders on the flagship.
Finally the man came back over the speaker. "Follow us to the hangar. Do not deviate from our course, and remain in your cockpit until you are approached by Wedge Antilles. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
00000
Luke sat with Mara in the mess hall, which was empty save them due to the late hour. The meeting with High Command had taken forever, but at least they'd been able to create a solid plan against the Death Star. Mara had kindly supplied the Imperial codes they might need.
The only thing they were missing was an Imperial ship and some uniforms, though Mara knew where to get some of those.
But none of it would have happened if Lars hadn't been at the Palace... something that had been Mara's call.
Speaking of Mara...
Luke looked to her collection of plates and took note of the items consumed. She seemed to be following some sort of pattern when it came to her food of late, asking the kitchen staff for specific meals cooked in specific ways. And if it wasn't right, she couldn't eat it.
Though whether it was couldn't or wouldn't, Luke wasn't entirely sure.
He finally decided to brave asking her about her strange new habit. "Mara?"
He was a little nervous, because she'd also been moody of late, especially around mealtimes and mornings. By contrast, she was oftentimes sultry and loving in the evenings, and sometimes she'd wake in the dead of night and demand something from him: more often than not food or lovemaking.
"Yes?" she replied, looking up at him from one of her plates, this one containing strizzleberry pie and chocolate whipped topping.
Luke opened his mouth to ask— with a brief flicker of Venussia coning to mind for some reason— when his comlink beeped.
Luke sighed, giving up on his curiosity and answering the device. "Skywalker."
"Luke, it's Wedge." Came a grim voice. "We've got a lone Imperial pilot asking to speak with you."
Luke and Mara shared a look. "One person?"
"That's what he says, and thermal scans confirm his claim," Wedge replied. "You want to meet him, or should we bag him?"
Something in the Force niggled at Luke, and he shook his head, even though the other man couldn't see it. "No, escort him to our hangar, I'll be there shortly."
"Will do." Wedge signed off, leaving a confused couple behind.
Mara was the first to break the silence. "You know, if he really is alone, he could provide us with the Imperial ship we've been lacking. Also, his ship would have a few uniforms on board per regulations."
Luke gave her a winning smile, leaning in for a kiss. "That's why I love you..."
But just before his lips would have touched hers, his connection to Shmi flared to utter, painful life, and Luke jerked in his seat with such violence that he fell flat to the floor, where he lay gasping like a beached fish.
"Luke!" Mara was by his side instantly, but he didn't see her. His vision was flashing with shades of color as Shmi's pain sang out to him in waves... and then her pain eased, and Luke was left to curl into himself.
"Luke, talk to me!" Mara snapped worriedly, her hand on his shoulder as he shook.
But he couldn't formulate words or thoughts just then, because Shmi's sense then lit up with hysteria and dark swirls of panic and despair. Luke was steadily drowning in her dark sense and he didn't realize he was screaming right along with her until Mara's Force presence snatched him back from the abyss, pressing him onto his back.
Luke cried out with the sudden silence of Shmi's presence, and ended up vomiting his dinner all over himself.
Hands turned his body so he wouldn't choke, and a soothing hand rubbed his back. Only when Luke was calm enough to form words and thoughts once more did he sit up and turn to face Mara.
He froze in shock to see tears streaming down her face, and she was hugging her free arm about her body as if to stop herself from sobbing outright. Luke felt horrible for neglecting her and he gathered her to him, ignoring his soiled clothing.
He was weeping too, and had to use the Force to keep a level head.
"Luke... our little girl, she's..." Mara wept, clinging to him. "She's... he is..."
"I know..." Luke whispered brokenly. "I felt her..."
"I know you did," Mara pulled back to look at him pleadingly. "Please don't hate me for cutting you off like that. I did it to protect you."
Luke ran tender fingers through the edge of her hair and down her cheek. "I could never hate you, Mara. I'm glad you cut me off. I wouldn't be any help to anyone if I could still feel that."
He of course was angry, but remembering that these feelings were exactly what the Emperor wanted from Luke, he controlled himself. He was a Jedi: he would act like one... or it would all be for naught.
"Luke, its time." Mara grabbed his face to emphasize her point
"Yes," Luke agreed, feeling it as surely as she did in the Force. "It's time to save our daughter."
Mara nodded, and then glanced at their fronts with a grimace. "But first, we may need to clean up."
Luke laughed, grateful or the tension breaker. "Agreed."
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Shmi had never felt such pain, nor did she recognize the passage of time. But when her 'punishment' finally ended, she was left crying weakly.
The man had hurt her physically, driving her to depths of pain she'd never known were possible. But she was at least thankful he'd not given her any drugs.
Yet.
However, when the Emperor appeared to take her chins in his icy fingers and force her to look upon him, she knew something else was coming.
"Administer the retracin," he ordered the other Imperial.
Shmi struggled weakly, her fear doubling. They were giving her drugs now? What would those do?
Sensing her question, Palpatine leaned closer. "Retracin is a drug that will rob you of your reasoning and logic abilities. You will not be able to stop your subconscious from reacting to fears it has picked up."
Palpatine now smirked, setting Shmi's blood to an icy fever. "Fear like those of small spaces."
Shmi's eyes widened even as the prick to her arm came, and she struggled uselessly.
The Emperor gestured to the man who'd tortured her. "Place her in the device."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Shmi was freed from her restraints and lifted up into the man's arms, where she was then turned so she could see the 'device' the Emperor had mentioned. It was nothing more than a metallic box with no viewports... and yet it had a tiny light, and the door was lockable from the outside only.
Shmi shrieked in fright when she realize what was about to happen, and she had enough of her thinking power left to understand that the drug was already taking affect. Shmi balked in the man's arms, and he dropped her.
She felt shoots of pain all over, but her only goal was to get away from the box. Shmi struggled uselessly while the man dragged her by the hair into the container and then slammed the door.
Shmi sat rigidly for long seconds as the finalizing shink of the lock was heard.
She jumped when the light came on, giving her enough luminescence to see by, and the Emperor's voice sounded from a tiny speaker.
"Enjoy your punishment, Child," he gloated gleefully. "Now; go to work and bring your father to me."
With that the comm. clicked off, and Shmi was left to drop further and further into the depths of despair and the terrifyingly low levels of hysteria.
The walls had already begun squeezing in... getting closer and closer... she was supposed to be chanting something to keep her fear at bay... but the walls were moving! They were getting closer and closer... yet they never touched her... but they kept coming nearer!
She screamed, alternating clutching at her head and pounding the wall.
"Let me out!" she begged. "Please let me out!"
No answer came save a chuckle she knew to belong to the Emperor.
Shmi squeezed herself into a corner and curled into the tightest ball she could. At some point— she had already lost all sense of time— the space got freezing cold, and her mind instantly balked at the thought that she was being refrozen.
Shmi began to sob hysterically, unable to help it even as her fear took strong hold and refused to release her.
(A/N 2: For those of you who have asked me to 'please finish', let me assure you I WILL complete this story! I promise! I haven't made it this far to quit now! I just have another story going too that has been begging me to write it, but for this one, sometimes I have to wait and make sure I have things set for the next chapter so I can do it right. So please bear with me, and I guarantee a finished product. P.S: I even have infant-stage plans for a sequel to this trilogy, a book set in the same series, but a few years later.)
