I wish to thank jedi1952 for the betareading of this fiction. Telling she did a great work is an understatement, because she fixed my poor English and also helped me to improve the scenes and characters, pointing out with precision where problems were. I owe her a lot.
DECLARATION: This fiction is written just for fun and I'm not making money with it. Characters and Star Wars galaxy belong to Lucasfilm and Disney, of course. For original characters and places, I used names taken from the real world, but I chose them just because they sound good in this fiction and so they aren't related to any real person or historical fact: any resemblance is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER 11
Luke Force-pushed the trooper quite hard this time, but still no lightning spread out from his hand.
The middle-aged man cried in surprise flying some meters away. He hit the ground with his head and passed out. The previous day, with a very bad sense of timing, he had been caught red-handed while he was stealing from his comrades' cabinets. So he had been immediately promoted as target for the young Sith's pitiful attempts to produce Force lightning. Vader didn't really feel the need of a pretext to choose an experimental guy, when he was required. But, since Luke usually did, his father understood to ease the training he looked for someone with any faults: it wasn't difficult at all among such a big crew.
The training room fell silent, except the noise of mechanical breathing apparatus, behind Luke's back. Of course, the Dark Lord wasn't pleased about his performance. He was clearly pondering how to instruct his son better. "It doesn't matter how hard you push in the Force," he told his son at last. "The quality of your feelings makes the difference, not its depth. You must release pure anger and hate."
The young man nodded automatically, but he was growing tired. Those sessions about lightning were proving the most frustrating he had endured. It was quite annoying listening to lectures about something his father himself couldn't do and very difficult to learn without an example to follow.
The trooper revived, blinking his eyes.
"Stand up!" Vader ordered him dryly.
Not wishing to fall in further disgrace, the man obediently complied, even if with some effort, and he put himself a few steps in front of Luke, as he had been instructed at the beginning of the session. His face clearly showed he was regretting his foolish greed.
The younger Sith rose his hands towards him. He tried to hate him: wasn't this man a thief who brought problems? Shouldn't he be despised? Maybe something was wrong with Luke, because he could hardly feel hostility for him. So, he changed strategy and pictured in his mind the image of Palpatine, the very last receiver of his efforts. He called the Force from his inner being and pushed again. The rage he felt for the Emperor matched immediately with the dismay at the fear he saw in the trooper's eyes. The resulting feeble push, with no hint of lightning, made the target just swing and fall on his knees, his eyes still focus on his aggressor's face.
Luke lowered his head at his new failure. He could easily sense his father's impatience. He heard Vader's sword ignite behind him: it took all his self-control not to start. The last part of the red blade came into the corner of his sight, next to his right arm, left bare by his training singlet. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. The burning touch of the saber cut him slowly, but superficially, on the upper part of his limb. He swallowed, suppressing a shout, as he could smell his own flesh cauterized. He breathed deeply in and out. Then, he opened again his eyes.
The trooper, in amazement, was watching the wounding. Then he glanced at the faint scars covering both the young Sith's arms. Sudden understanding that they were results of years of training came clearly to his mind and a sympathetic look flashed on his face.
The guy was pitying him!
Luke's anger rose immediately strong. Who does he think he was? Sort of comrade in disgrace to him? That trooper knew nothing: he couldn't even see the difference between the regrettable disadvantages of a Sith's training and the adequate punishment for a thief. Now, he wished the man had suffered for his insolence. He raised his arms and let out fast but powerful lightning.
The man yelled in pain, falling to the ground.
Did he understand now? The young Sith didn't really care, he wanted just to hurt him. He hit him again, this time keeping up the lightening.
The trooper could do nothing, but scream and writher in pain… just in the same way Luke himself had done several times under Palpatine's attacks.
The sudden realization broke his concentration. He looked doubtfully at the guy who was moaning softly now. He knew all too well the nausea and desperation the man was experiencing.
"Impressive," his father praised. "Most impressive. You must learn to protract what you have felt."
The younger man nodded feebly, while his guilty eyes were still on the trooper: most of the pain was gone now, but the fear of a new attack was clear on his face.
"Kill him," Vader ordered.
Luke swallowed. He can't. He just can't: he hated the guy no more; he didn't want him to suffer. "I… I…," he babbled. What could he say? Whining wasn't an option: that usually made the Dark Lord angry with him. "I think he has learnt his lesson for this time," he blurt out at last.
He heard his father's steps: from behind he moved around to face him. He could feel his disappointed eyes on him. He was clearly pondering his son's refusal. Was he going to punish him again?
"Very well," Vader accorded surprisingly. "You are old enough to judge in this minor matter. If you are not able to feel he deserves death it is pointless going on," he explained. Then, he turned to the trooper who was slowly rising. "You are a very lucky man. See no one will complain about you anymore or I will personally take care of you in front of your own platoon. You are dismissed."
"Thank you, my Lord," the man faltered, still incredulous he was alive. His did a military salute and went out.
When father and son were again alone, the Dark Lord resumed his talk with Luke. "Be aware tomorrow we will be at Coruscant," he warned him, pointing his finger to him. "It is better that you will be more determined for your own sake."
The younger Sith paled at the idea of the coming duel with Palpatine, but he nodded slightly, looking at the black lenses: he was sure he could easily protract the hate for the old tyrant.
"Now I must go to the command deck. This evening, come in my office. We must still specify some details of our plan," Vader instructed, before he left the room too.
The next day, Luke felt his gut clenching tight in fear, as he and Vader walked the corridors of the Imperial Palace that led to the throne room in the upper part of the building. Officially he was the prisoner brought in front of the Emperor. In reality his hands were free and his lightsaber hung from his belt. He was very aware that, within an hour, at least one of them three will be dead. His father showed certainty of their victory. Yet, he wasn't so sure. Of course they were two against one, but Palpatine was much stronger than them: the Dark Lord's injuries weakened him, in spite his great power; his son was young and healthy, but still lacking in experience.
The door opened and they strode inside the throne room. In the upper part of the room, Palpatine sat on his black throne, turned to the wide window, apparently to watch the landscape below.
Vader walked towards the short stairs to reach him. As they had agreed the previous day, Luke immediately took care of the two red guards. As he walked behind his father, he grabbed their throats through the Force and choked them.
The old tyrant's chair turned round and he looked at them with a thin smile on his face. "Lord Vader," he said with a quiet amused tone, "at last! I was starting to think you would never have the heart to fulfill your apprenticeship." He stood slowly up and took few steps ahead.
Luke was amazed at the acceptance of the betrayal in his words, as a natural part of a Sith's life. That wasn't what Vader had conveyed to him.
Palpatine grinned and watched him. "Are you surprised, boy?"
The younger Sith didn't feel enough self-confidence about what to answer and kept silent.
"What do you think?" the Emperor taunted, "If I am dismissed, won't you and Vader deceive each other just because you are father and son?"
Luke had never thought on that and probably he would have better not to think at that just now. The challenge was meant obviously to break his focus and to undermine his loyalty. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder, the corner of his eyes looking at the Dark Lord next him.
His father, well aware what was happening, cut his Master's monologue igniting his saber. "All this is pointless," he declared.
Palpatine cast a brief glance to him, before turning again to the younger man. "Now he needs you to overthrow me, but then you will be just a danger to him," he warned menacingly.
The blue eyes turned completely to his father this time, pondering the situation. Luke didn't reach a certain conclusion. He just wished the old despot would stop talking and instilling doubts in him.
The Emperor was of course aware of his discomfort and went on, keeping his quiet tone. "The faith in your father is your weakness."
"And your overconfidence is yours," the younger man spat back this time.
Palpatine's smile grew. "Don't you believe me?" he challenged. "Yet, when he will be angry with you, he will choke you as he did with your mother."
The Dark Lord's anger burst violently in the Force. He cried out and waded resolutely toward the older Sith. The Emperor was ready: his lightsaber came into sight from somewhere of his dark cloak and they began to fight.
Luke stayed still, watching them. He couldn't move after what he had just heard. Palpatine's words and Vader's reaction seemed to confirm his worst guesses about his mother's end. He should have helped, as they had planned for days. Instead, he took a few steps ahead towards the two opponents who were fiercely dueling. He needed answers and needed them now, but no one could be questioned. So, he reached his father's mind and probed him. The dark obvious rage wrapped his whole being: its strength was impressive and created almost the illusion it was the only feeling filling him. Almost. Being able to cross that black barrier, the younger Sith found a mess of repressed emotions that were hard to refer to the Dark Lord: sorrows, grief and a burning remorse. He had done, he had really done that! But then he had regretted it so strongly that he hadn't been able to forgive himself anymore and he had forbidden himself any happiness.
If Vader had been aware of the deep probe his son was doing, he gave no hint. He was in trouble: in spite of Palpatine being older, he was much faster than him. The Dark Lord's four artificial limbs couldn't match his Master's rapidity and he looked somehow clumsy compared to him. The two opponents went down the stairs, facing each other. In their fight, they turned around and the black mask met his son's gaze, somehow betraying his silent reproach for the young man's indecision. That lapse of concentration in the duel proved fatal. The Emperor sliced away his right hand, leaving him without the defence of his saber.
Laughing, Palpatine burst a discharge of Force lightning to Vader's breast, temporally blacking out the controls of his breathing apparatus.
The Dark Lord flew some meters ahead, passing out.
Sorrow and shame overcame Luke: he had promised his father he wouldn't fail him, but he had let Palpatine separate them and then he had just watched, not acting. Angered more by himself than anybody else, he trod a few steps and, raising his hands, he let out lightning against the old tyrant.
The Emperor fell down, taking by surprise, and his saber dropped on the ground. But the attack hadn't been very strong; he didn't pass out and arose almost immediately. His features hardened.
Now Luke was terrified. He gave another lightning strike. But this time his opponent was ready and he himself counter-attacked with an opposite discharge. The air between them became dangerously electrified. The younger Sith wasn't able to generate such power for any longer and he ended being hit and falling back.
"Young fool," Palpatine hissed. "What great potential wasted! You should have better chosen your side and learnt from whom could teach you."
Luke sprang back to his feet, unhooked his lightsaber and ignited it. The Emperor attacked again with lightning and the younger Sith absorbed it with his red blade. Yet, the power was strong and he began to step back. Palpatine went ahead, keeping up the discharge, apparently without effort. They turned a little on the left and moved out the room. They passed onto a drawbridge that led to the private garden, which was suspended above the nearest surface for hundreds of meters.
Meanwhile Vader had regained consciousness and neared them. Luke saw the Dark Lord behind Palpatine, still on the throne room near the edge. His left hand was over the controls of the bridge: he had just to push the button that closed the drawbridge and he had won.
The frightened younger Sith knew there wasn't an escape for both himself and Palpatine. He should have been proud he had fulfilled his destiny, allowing his Master to conquer the Empire. So, why did he feel nothing but sorrow for the life he was going to lose in his youth? He was still parrying the lightning automatically, yet he braced himself for the long fall that would have leave him a lot of time to think and for the final violent hit against the ground that would kill him.
But Vader didn't still push the button, as he kept on watching him.
The Emperor sensed the danger, too. He stopped the attack to the younger Sith and turned the lightning back to the Dark Lord, making him fall back again. The old despot ran back into the throne room.
Luke was aware Palpatine hadn't his father's hesitancy and he ran after him. But he was too late: as soon as the Emperor put his own feet safely back in the throne room, he pushed the button that controlled the drawbridge.
The younger Sith felt the ground slipping away under him. Releasing his lightsaber to fall into the emptiness, he was able to grab the corner of the closing bridge as it neared the building. But when it hid inside the wall, he began to fall. A few meters down, he was able to grab a spike coming out from the building surface and hung there.
There were no hand holds to climb up, but if he didn't find out a way to go back up, he would soon follow his lightsaber, as his strength began to leave him. He calmed down, deeply focusing in the Force. He felt the floor far above him; Palpatine wasn't on the edge anymore. His attention was taken by the lightning he was widely using against his father, who was barely conscious. The younger Sith had to perform an high jump to get up there and help his father. He sighed. Overcoming the fear of failure, he pushed himself until he was at the throne room's height. With an elegant roll in the air, he hit the floor, perfectly on his feet.
The Emperor was several meters ahead him, turned on the other side of the throne room where Vader was lying with his usually noisy breathing sounding more difficult. The old tyrant was too focused on his victim to have noticed what was going behind him. "Anakin," he verbally raged against his servant, "you are nothing but a failure: a true Sith would have closed the bridge. You failed as Jedi and you failed as Sith."
Luke understood Palpatine was going to resume his attack on his father. He had to take him by surprise behind his back. He saw his father's lightsaber near the stairs, where the Dark Lord had lost his artificial limb. Luke called it to him with the Force and ignited it as soon as it was in his hand.
The movement was intercepted in the corner of the Emperor's eye and he turned to face him. His wonder at the sight of the younger man still alive was soon replaced by a fierce anger. He called his own saber from the ground too, switched it on and ran towards him, yelling in hate. And then there was the mistake. In his fury, the old tyrant wasn't coldly cautious and started his stroke too soon, raising up his sword before breaking his opponent's guard.
It was just a few microseconds that left the old tyrant's side exposed, but for the younger Sith it was enough to strike a blow just under his right rib. Luke wanted to end all this and end it once for all. He didn't withdraw his blade after the stroke, but he kept it inside his opponent's body as he took another step ahead and cut the older man in two parts, bringing his right knee on the ground another step away.
Palpatine's death in the Force was like a sudden violent twist, the dark energy flowed around him as if he could have taken everything away with him. But the dark energy faded fast; leaving a peaceful light in its place.
The young Sith was sure his opponent was gone, before he turned to check that with his own eyes. Yet, he rose and looked at the old dead body, incredulous the nightmare of his whole life wasn't anymore, beaten by the most basic of of combat forms because of his excess of rage. In his place was just a still corpse, stiff and pitiable as anyone else's.
Luke's contemplation was broken by the growing noise of Vader's labored breath. He neared his father and knelt next to him. He felt his presence becoming more and more feeble, although he was less dark than usual, almost light at the core. "I'm going to call med help," he tried to reassure him, as his eyes looked around the room for the communication system.
"No," the older man told him with big effort, "it is over for me. Help me to take this mask off."
"But you'll die," his son protested.
"Nothing can stop it now," Vader explained. "Just for once let me look at you with my own eyes."
The young man nodded feebly. He hadn't a clue how the mask was closed. He took away the helmet and, with his hands, looked for a release clasp behind the neck. He found it and removed the black perpetual barrier between him and his father.
He wasn't ready for the sight.
The dreadful Dark Lord was a scarred bald man. He looked much older than the forty-three years old he was. Just the blue eyes were the same Luke had seen in old pictures.
Many questions filled the younger Sith's mind, but one thing above all he couldn't understand. He turned back to watch the closed drawbridge: his father had been given the Empire into his hands, yet he hadn't pressed the button. Luke could think only one logical explanation, but he didn't dare to contemplate it. He looked back to look into Vader's eyes. "Why?" he asked.
"What does an Empire matter, if you lose all of what you care most?" the older man answered.
The younger Sith blushed: he had never hoped, either dreamt, his father could feel something for him.
"I never meant to hurt your mother," the Dark Lord declared with the tone of begging forgiveness.
"I know," his son answered, still impressed by the strong sorrow he had detected, when he had deeply probed his father.
"Luke," Vader called him with great effort, "the Empire is yours now. Be wise in your choices: do not make people you love hate you."
"I don't hate you, father," his son stated immediately.
The Dark Lord tried a last stifled breath and a smile curled his lips in the fatherly smile Luke had never seen before. Then he closed his eyes and died.
