Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter…I haven't gotten around to answering you yet, but I will do so before I post another chapter. It would really be nice to hear from more of you, though…Please feel free to comment, positively, negatively, or somewhere in between.

…

It was the first shift of the new cycle; under normal circumstances, Firmus Piett would be back in his quarters, crashed like a rock and dreaming of some sunny beach on some vacationing planet, a thousand lightyears away from Captain Kale. But these were not normal circumstances. After having had a full ten hours to reflect on it, in fact, the lieutenant had decided that this was much more like hell.

Major Tbron had not merely come down with the Devaronian flu; he had been assaulted by the worst invasion of it the shipboard medics had ever seen. Everybody else in the barracks belonging to the communications division had been quarantined—except, of course, for Piett, who had not been in the barracks within the infection window and was therefore the only officer on the bridge roster still fit for duty. As if working two full shifts in a row, with the prospect of a third in view, was not nightmare enough, the captain and Lord Vader had both reappeared on the bridge ten minutes ago.

The battle between the two of them had already seen one casualty. Piett stared religiously at his display as an unfortunate ensign scrambled away from the bridge, hand clutched around his bruised windpipe, and somehow kept his fingers from shaking as they worked. He knew the stories as well as the next man, but there was a vast gap between hearing about it and watching Darth Vader actually strangle someone without laying a finger on them.

The ensign had been lucky to escape with his life, not to mention his rank, intact.

Firmus just prayed he would continue to escape the man's notice—

"Lieutenant, since your subordinates seem incapable of delivering a coherent report, perhaps you would care to demonstrate it for them?"

Piett felt his spine freeze as the cold, deep voice rumbled behind him. He stood from his chair quickly nonetheless and turned to face Vader with as much professionalism as he could muster. He hadn't known the ensign was from communications…hadn't dared look that closely. "Certainly, my lord," he said. "May I ask what you wish the report to cover?"

"A coherent summary of all current security strategies regarding the Incom project," Vader snapped out. "Be ready in five minutes."

Piett swallowed, and glanced at his captain some feet away. Kale was watching with sour interest, probably anticipating a spectacular failure. He had good reason—it was all but impossible for a junior officer to meet the demand the dark lord had just made.

Impossible, that was, unless one kept oneself up to date on all information pertaining to one's division, and not just information directly related to one's individual tasks. Which Piett did.

"I can begin now if you wish, my lord," he said.

Kale's baleful stare was suddenly shot through with surprise, which almost immediately morphed into detestation. Vader, who had begun to turn away, slowly looked back at him. Piett swallowed again, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

There was dead silence for some seconds. Piett resisted the urge to tug fearfully at his collar, expecting to feel invisible, relentless fingers crushing his windpipe any second…

"Then begin," Vader finally said.

Somehow, he managed not to totter from sheer relief and plunged ahead into his report. Once started, it was easy to lose his fear in the familiar process. "Of course, my lord, the most significant of our security measures is the Tyranny, which according to our latest intelligence reports should be more than sufficient to repel any attacks by Rebel forces. For clandestine purposes, it is current protocol that the ship rotate around its assigned sector in such a manner as to remain within one hyperspace jump of Fresia. In the Fre'ji system itself we have deployed a stormtrooper division around the Incom facility and placed a fighter squadron on alert. There are also several agents undercover for observation purposes, and planetary security has been ordered to maximum strength. Should a situation arise that our local precautions are not sufficient to control, the Tyranny will be no more than two hours' time from Fresia. All standard security detail precautions apply as well."

He cleared his throat ever so slightly before continuing. "Of course, my lord, there are several pages of detailed protocols and directives, but I believe that summarizes all major security aspects regarding Fresia."

Silence again reigned for some several seconds. Piett hoped Kale's death glare was proof that his report had been acceptable…

"Well done, Lieutenant," Vader rumbled.

Piett blinked. Had the dark lord just…complimented him?

Surely not!

"Th-thank you, my—"

"If only I could say the same for you, Captain," Vader continued ruthlessly, turning his opaque stare on Kale.

Piett backed silently down into his console seat. Between Kale and Vader was, in anyone's estimation, a most unwise position to occupy.

"Perhaps the import of the Fresia security assignment is unclear to you, Captain," the dark lord hissed.

"I assure you, my lord, that is not the case," Kale objected quickly.

"Then why is it that the Tyranny is not in Fre'ji space as we speak?"

"I felt that would draw undesirable attention to the system. According to our orders, my lord, this security assignment is to be kept secret."

"The Empire is not interested in maintaining secrecy," Vader remarked acidly. "The Empire is interested in protecting the Incom project."

"I maintain that secrecy is the best method by which we can protect the Incom project," Kale returned. "The Tyranny is within close reach if needed."

"A rebel raid could seize the prototypes and plans in less than half an hour," Vader retorted. "And yet you find it acceptable to keep your ship within two hours of the system?"

"My lord, that is why I have stationed several detachments—"

"A few stormtroopers and fighters are scarcely sufficient to deter a rebel strike force."

Kale seemed to get some more backbone at that accusation. "The strength of the various rebel movements is highly overestimated, my lord," he returned firmly. "They are few in number, lacking in military resources and information, highly fragmented, and possess no military experience worth mentioning. It is an insult to Imperial prowess to regard them as a significant threat."

"You are as ignorant as you are inept," Vader retorted icily. "Reroute this ship to the Fre'ji system."

"My lord, I don't think—"

"Are you questioning my orders, captain?" Vader's voice had dropped to a soft, poisonous whisper.

"No, my lord," Kale said quickly. "Absolutely not."

"Excellent."

Piett could feel every footfall echoing in his chair as Vader stalked from the bridge. There was dead silence, in which he felt sure he could taste on the air the sheer delight of the crew at seeing their dreaded captain knocked from his pedestal. Then Kale stalked slowly to his command chair.

"Lieutenant Piett," he said softly.

Piett stood and turned—and nearly flinched at the look of raw hatred and fury on his commander's face. "Yes, sir?"

"Relay the course change order to Navigation. Tell them to take us to the Fre'ji system, immediately."

"Yes, sir."

…

It was really dark in his cabin. Luke didn't really like the dark. He missed the starfighter night light in his old room. Plus he missed his stuffed bantha. He was a big boy, six whole years old, and he wasn't supposed to like stuffed animals anymore, but his bantha had been a real good pillow, even better than real pillows, and it always made him sleep the best.

Well, he told himself stubbornly, he didn't have his night light, and he didn't have his bantha, so he was just going to have to put up with it being dark. He tried to make up for the missing bantha by snuggling up tight under his blankets. He did like his new blankets better than the ones in his old room. They were nice and heavy and warm. And he did like his new pillows, even if they weren't as good as the bantha, because they were real big and he could snuggle in between them and pull the blankets up over his head and it made a sort of tent.

He wished he had his model skyhopper. But he'd forgotten and left it on the other ship.

Where was Mommy going? She hadn't said. Luke hoped it wasn't anyplace dangerous. Obi-Wan hadn't been very happy that she was going there, wherever "there" was. Obi-Wan was going to someplace that began with a D. He wished they had all gone to the D-place. Then he wouldn't have to be so worried and he wouldn't have forgotten his model ship and he could have played games with Mommy. And he wouldn't have been so worried about having nightmares.

Mommy thought he'd gone to sleep, but he hadn't yet. He was too nervous about nightmares. But he couldn't climb in bed with Obi-Wan anymore. After all, he was a big boy. Big boys weren't scaredy-banthas. He bet his daddy wouldn't have been scared of the dark or nightmares. So he wasn't going to be either, not anymore.

Determinedly, Luke closed his eyes and thought about his model ship and the big lake on Thesme until he fell asleep.

…

Obi-Wan had spent most of the jump to Desmen meditating. He could not yet rid himself of a premonition of looming danger. Whom it concerned, his meditation had not revealed to him. He could only hope it didn't involve Padmé. Or himself and Luke. No, that would not be particularly desirable either…

He stretched, resigning himself to the fact that he could neither predict nor dictate the future, and glanced at the countdown chrono. It was another five minutes before the ship came out of hyperspace after its eleven-hour jump. The Jedi Master stood. He should tell Luke; the boy loved few things more than watching reversions from hyperspace.

Obi-Wan padded his way through the ship until he reached Luke's door. Manually opening it just enough to peer in, he saw that Luke was still curled up in a motionless lump, blankets pulled over both his head and the pillows he seemed to have piled up around himself. How very…well, Anakin.

Had the boy really slept this whole time, untroubled by nightmares?

Changing his mind, Obi-Wan shut the door again and returned to the cockpit. He should let Luke sleep as long as he was inclined; the boy certainly needed that more than another view of hyperspace reversion, although he was sure Luke would disagree with him emphatically when he finally awoke.

It was good to see that the child was recovering. He only hoped this little expedition of Padmé's didn't impede that.

…

Padmé watched the chrono wearily. It was another five solitary hours before her ship would arrive in Fresia. She'd already slept for nearly thirteen straight hours; something she'd rarely ever done in her life. Now all she had to do for the next five was ponder how wise a decision she'd made in leaving Luke behind. She didn't feel like wallowing in guilt the whole way there…

The droids!

Padmé gave a half-smile and climbed out of the pilot's seat, heading for the small hold of her yacht. How could she have forgotten them? She'd not activated them since the trip to Tatooine. Then, she'd been far too agitated for them to be of any help—but she'd spent countless hours over the last six years in their company. They might not be quite equal to human companionship, but they weren't half bad.

With two pressed buttons, their photoreceptors lit up brightly. "Hello, you two," she said.

"Why, Mistress Padmé! I do believe I've been shut down for quite some time."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, Threepio. It's been a busy couple of weeks."

"Oh!" cried Threepio in distress. "I hope you didn't encounter any dangers on Tatooine, Mistress Padmé."

The short astromech droid beside him rolled forward with an insolent chirp and bumped Padmé affectionately. She smiled and patted his dome.

"Well," Threepio huffed, "I think it's quite logical to have an appropriate amount of apprehension, especially considering Tatooine."

Artoo's dome swiveled with a rather cocky air, accompanied with a string of rude whistles.

"Well! You needn't be cheeky about it, you overgrown trash can!"

Padmé grinned. She wasn't sure how she would have gotten through the last six years without these two to lighten her mood.

"Are we on Tatooine now, Mistress Padmé?" Threepio inquired at length.

She shook her head. "No, Threepio. I'm on a covert mission to Fresia. It's for the rebellion."

Artoo's dome swiveled some more, and he gave another series of more serious chirps.

Threepio jerked his head. "Artoo would like to know who is accompanying you on this mission."

She frowned. "Nobody. As I said, it's covert."

Artoo squealed and whistled. Padmé stiffened, detecting a note of alarm. "What is it?"

Threepio gasped. "Mistress Padmé! Artoo has detected an intruder on his scanners!"

…

Obi-Wan glanced toward the cockpit door. He was beginning to be a bit concerned. They had been in the Desmen system for about two hours now; Obi-Wan had done some security checks and put their ship down in the middle of a huge, uninhabited forest, turning the ship's power down to the minimum so as not to attract unwanted attention. That was thirteen hours since they'd hypered out of Obroa-Skai—and still he detected no stirring in young Luke's Force presence. The boy did not register at all.

Call him paranoid, but Obi-Wan thought it was extremely strange for any six-year-old, let alone one troubled by nightmares, to sleep so deeply for thirteen hours straight.

It was certainly more than enough sleep. Obi-Wan stood and walked back to Luke's door, opening it quietly by hand. His young charge was right where he had left him, curled up on his bed beneath the blanket and the pillows.

In fact, nothing appeared to have budged at all.

Oh, no…

…

The adrenaline was pounding through her veins. Blaster held warily in guard position, set on stun, Padmé no longer felt at all bored as she eased around the corridor, following Artoo as he led her towards the stowaway. The astromech finally stopped outside Obi-Wan's cabin and let out a low, confirmatory whistle. Padmé nodded firmly and gestured for him to back out of the way.

They'd left Threepio bemoaning his fate in the cockpit. Should something happen, Artoo would alert him and he would send an alert message to Bail Organa.

Who could possibly have gotten aboard her ship?

Padmé wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Bracing herself, taking a deep breath, she slapped the door control and dashed into the entrance, blaster aimed at the lump on the bunk, and shouted, "Don't move!"

The lump lurched upward, and Padmé gasped, finger moving on the trigger almost without thought.

…

Obi-Wan rushed forward, making short work of the distance between door and bed, and tore the blankets back from the lump on the bed. Then he sank down on the bed wearily.

Blasted Skywalkers.

…

"Mommy!" the lump yelled.

Padmé stopped her finger on the trigger just barely in time. "Luke?"

The shadowed, blanket-swathed figure nodded frantically. Shakily Padmé reholstered her blaster and fumbled for the light switch. The glow panels flooded on, illuminating Luke's rather frightened face.

Padmé sagged against the wall, hand clamped to her chest, utterly speechless.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," Luke whimpered, "I'm sorry…"

"What are you doing here?" she finally got out in a very ragged voice.

Luke mumbled something, shrinking down shame-faced into his blankets.

Numbly she walked over to the bed and sank down next to him. "What?"

"I want to come with you! I don't care if it's boring, Mommy, I want to come with you!"

"Oh, Luke…" She groaned and rubbed her head. "I told you to go with Obi-Wan for a good reason."

Luke stared at his covers. "You don't want me to come?" he mumbled.

She sighed. "Honey, it's not like that. This just isn't a very good place to take children. That was why I wanted you to go with Obi-Wan."

"So it's dangerous?"

Padmé groaned against and dropped her head into her hands altogether. She should have seen this coming. She should have known Luke would have Anakin's insatiable taste for adventure, for not following the expectations. Maybe this was the real reason nobody was supposed to marry Jedi…the children would be completely uncontrollable.

What the nine hells did she do now?