Note: The part between Luke and Mara was a collab effort between JE and I.

*

Han scowled, as he watched the unfolding battle.

The star-fighters were holding their own, just barely. They were outnumbered for one thing, and that behemoth of a space station tipped the odds way on the Imps' side, even before the TIEs were scrambled.

He sighed. No one would ever accuse Han of being an altruistic sort, but he didn't want to see anyone mown under.

The Imps had never done him any favors, either.

He frowned.

What can I do against these scumdogs, either? He wondered.

What the frack. He liked heavy odds, but this was absurd.

He dove into the midst of the fray.

At his side, he could hear Chewie's rumble of approval.

When Leia saw what was unfolding on the scopes, she felt something tumble and flutter in her stomach.

That Correllian fool. She almost fumed.

Was it worry, or might she be just a teensy bit impressed by his heroics?

No, impossible.

The squadrons were heavily engaged, as the Millennium Falcon provided firing strength and cover.

Mara approached Luke as he was intercepted by a medic who hastily applied a bacta-bandage.

"Looks like you're grounded." She observed, with more than a hint of sympathy, but she infused her tone with snark for good measure.

"Try not to gloat too obviously, Jade. Anyway, it's an insane man that is willing to court Death. I'm no martyr." Luke gauged her cooly. "I don't plan on dying, I didn't come here for that."

She frowned. "Forgive me if I hit a nerve." She smirked. "They'll be giving you a new astromech at any rate."

Luke gave a weary look. "More reliable than the last one I hope."

"It should be. It was the one we brought in."

Luke grimaced. "As long as I don't have to be stuck with 3PO, I'll be satisfied. All through the pilot briefing, I could hear him grousing."

Mara groaned. "I had to listen to him all the way out here! Totally an unpleasant experience."

Luke examined her face, noting the way her eyes flashed. '"Say, I have an idea." He checked out the bandage before pulling his sleeve down over it. "Since I'm to remain grounded, how about a drink?"

Mara considered him for a bit then said:

"I don't think that would be wise. I still have a job to do."

"That's a shame. I thought you said you were going to give me a chance."

"I am, but I don't think the time is right, now, do you?" She seemed to challenge him.

He smiled slightly. "I suppose not." He got up off the box. "I'll see you around then."

She smirked once more. "You might, I need to get back to Control."

He watched her as she left.

When the woman disappeared from sight, he expelled a breath he'd been holding.

Now alone he had time to think about things-to think about his failure.

Somehow, someway, his ship had become faulty. It seemed almost impossible that a certified technician would overlook such a critical flaw in the fighter's overall system. He couldn't help but feel that something was off...could they have a suspicion? No, the Rebels couldn't possibly know about his allegiances. He'd been very careful and considered himself quite the skilled actor. They all believed he was who he said he was.

Well, all except for Mara.

He was heading in the direction of a coridor.

Yes, that woman alone seemed to see through all his bluster. She was an interesting creature; obviously bright with a discerning mind. He liked that.

Luke felt the backlash as the thousands of lives were extinguished on the Death Star. He shuddered at the awkward feel of it. It wasn't that he was close to anyone in the Empire, he kept mostly to himself, but that still didn't stop him from feeling a sudden end like this. He shook it off with a growl.

Luckily, he was alone in an empty corridor.

Soon the Rebels would return and rejoice over their victory.

The voice that suddenly erupted in his mind was a menacing hiss.

You incompetent fool! You have failed me most miserably!

Palpatine beat down onto him, infusing his words with the Force, assaulting his brain.

His head pounded with the pressure Palpatine put on it. It felt as though the Dark Lord were grabbing it in a vice and attempting to crush it.

He stumbled in agony, his legs giving out beneath him as he fell to his knees. He cradled his head, groaning in pain.

Are you suffering, boy? That is good. Perhaps you will learn not to fail me—and keep your mind where it belongs. I did not send you on this mission to fraternize with the enemy. There was a heavy pause. Do you understand me?

The pressure eased off, and Luke lowered his hand. He willed the pain to disperse.

I understand…my Lord.

And that is another thing…your impertinence is barely tolerable. Until you have gained a subservient tongue, do not refer to me in that capacity.

Luke was very aware how Palpatine wanted him referred to, though as far as Luke was concerned, he was no Master of his. He might serve the man as his Lord Emperor, but he'd never felt that Palpatine had ever been a true Master.

And considering how Palpatine regarded him in general, he believed he was fully justified in his feelings. Luke was a Hand, but since Palpatine preferred female Hands, he had taken to labeling Luke an "agent".

He bit back his pride and the instantaneous defensive retort.

Yes, Master. He uttered, climbing steadily to his feet..

Palpatine disappeared from his mind without uttering a single word. He did that at times, popping in randomly and withdrawing just as quickly. It wasn't anything new.

He leaned against the wall, waiting for the pain to subside gradually. He could hear the rejoicing from far-off by now. The pilots had returned to Yavin and were celebrating their victory. He wondered who had taken the lucky shot that destroyed his Lord's station. No doubt Palpatine would want the man dealt with—he would do so in time.

His lip curled as he pushed off the wall.

He sought out the crowd. Perhaps with the battle done, he could talk Mara into an actual drink this time.

He passed a gaggle of pilots all carousing and celebrating. He shook his head half in disgust. Not that it concerned him, not entirely anyway. He had no love for the small cogs of the Empire, only the Empire itself.

It was a pity that station had been destroyed. It meant more work for him—and a cross Lord. He rubbed his head, still feeling a slight throbbing.

He bumped into someone. "Ah, look, it's Luke!" Hobbie exclaimed. "We were wondering where you'd gone. Shame you missed all the action. Isn't that right, Wes?"

Wes grinned. "Oh, yeah, shame."

"Just a rotten luck of the draw." He said, giving them a disarming smile. "There'll be other battles." He sighed dramatically.

"Guess we'll see you at the ceremony." Wes said.

"Ceremony?"

"Apparently they're rewarding this….Solo guy."

Solo, he knew that name.

"What did he do?" Luke asked off-handedly.

"Helped rescue the Princes and provided cover for the guy who took the shot apparently."

The shot.

The shot that had destroyed Palpatine's station.

"Who is he?"

"Uh, someone named….Darklighter."

Darklighter. He thought then filed that name away for another time. All Rebels would pay in due time. "I'll see you there…I've got to ah…Nature calls." He said, fumbling in his explanation.

"Gotcha." Hobbie nodded. "See you there!"

"See you!" Luke called back.

Right now, he needed to deal with another eyesore
.

He came upon the man seemingly by chance. Well, not entirely by chance, he'd intentionally sought him out. But of course, General Crix Madine was none the wiser.

"General Madine…" He said, smiling.

"Skywalker." Madine acknowledged. "Can I help you with something?"

He shook his head, putting on the act. "No, I'm just a bit disappointed I didn't get to do my part."

"Yes, it's a shame about your fighter."

"It is." He nodded forlornly.

"Well, a live pilot is better than a dead one." Madine offered somberly. "I'm glad your skills aren't being wasted so easily, we need pilots like you."

Luke ducked his head. "Thank you, General, that's quite an honor." He sighed.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

He flashed a smile. "You got me. There is one….small problem."

"Oh?"

His eyes turned steely. "Traitors like you."