WARNING: This chapter contains strong violence. (Hence, the T rating comes into play here).
A/N: All I seem to do here is apologise, and I'll do so again. Sorry for taking so long to update. I was going to cut this chapter shorter to give it to you earlier, but the flow of this part of the story comes off better as one chapter rather than two parts. Also, it only took me an extra day to finish this, so it's not like I made you wait too much longer... But yeah, this chapter is incredibly long, but I hope it makes up for me not writing anything for a month. Sorry again!
As always, I really appreciate your reviews and comments. They really make my day & encourage me to keep this story going. So, thank you. And, I hope you like this chapter.
The large, intimidating front door of Jabba's palace began to lift with a deep, echoing creek. Brilliant rays of sunlight spilled into the entryway as the door was hoisted to the ceiling and the hooded figure stepped forward, his long, black cloak lifting up a small cloud of dust as it trailed along the sandy floor. The Gamorrean guards eyed the mysterious figure as he passed but wisely kept their distance. The aura that the guest gave off was neither friendly nor dangerous, just very, very cold.
The figure swept through the dark passages of Jabba's palace in silence and only slowed his pace as he neared the steps that led to the main audience chamber. He descended slowly, giving his senses time to adjust to the dark air and letting his mind scope out the intricacies of his surroundings. It was early morning on this part of Tatooine, so the audience chamber was silent and still. But it wouldn't remain that way for long. The figure smirked and moved onwards.
He was already halfway down the steps when his presence was noticed and almost instantly, Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo, was at his side whispering hurriedly in a heavy mix of Huttese and Basic.
The hooded figure shot Fortuna a glance, but did not stop. "I am here on behalf of Lord Vader," he said. "And I do not like to be kept waiting. Jabba will see me now."
[The mighty Jabba is resting and does not wish to be disturbed,] Fortuna replied. [You should come back later. He might be more acquiescent to your pleas.]
This time the figure did stop. He turned to face Fortuna and his voice was low as he spoke.
"I did not come here to plead with Jabba," he hissed and Fortuna shied back a little. "I have come to settle a misunderstanding on his behalf. Either he will see me now, or none of you will see the light of day again. Do you understand?"
Fortuna sputtered for a moment, wide eyed and trembling. But then the collected facade that must come from having to deal with space gangsters on a daily basis slipped back into place and he squared his shoulders.
[I'm sorry but—]
"You will take me to Jabba now," the figure interrupted with a slight wave of his hand.
Fortuna paused for a second, mouth open slightly, then nodded.
[I will take you to Jabba now.]
"You serve your master well," said the figure as he followed Fortuna down the rest of the stairs and onto the audience chamber floor. "You will surely be rewarded."
Fortuna nodded. [I will surely be rewarded for my loyalty,] he murmured to himself, a slight smile crossing his lips. Then he stepped up onto the large, ornate dias that was the focus of the room and leaned over to whisper in his master's earhole.
Meanwhile, the hooded figure slowed to a halt in front of the dais, although his gaze did not lie on the great Hutt sprawled in front of him. Instead, it lingered on the sparse wall to his left where it seemed that something was missing… a prize, perhaps, stolen...
[You push your luck waking me at this hour, representative,] came the booming voice of Jabba the Hutt. The hooded figure dropped his gaze from the wall and slowly turned to look at the Hutt. [I hope, for your sake, that Lord Vader offers great reimbursement.]
"You do not want, or need, reimbursement from the Empire," the figure replied smoothly.
[I know what it is I want, representative,] Jabba growled. [And it's one million credits. And if you continue to mock me, it'll be two million. I'm sure Vader will have your head for that.]
"You desire no reimbursement from the Empire," the figure repeated, a little more firmly this time. "It is the Rebels that you blame for the attack on your shipment, not the Empire."
Jabba swelled up angrily at the figure's insolence and opened his wide, gaping mouth to growl out an execution order—only, something stopped him. A realisation. The Hutt paused for a moment, studying the hooded figure with appraising eyes, then let out a loud, booming laugh. The figure watched in wary silence.
[You attempt to trick my mind,] Jabba boomed in Huttese, his laugh still resounding around the room. [I assure you, it will not work. The Jedi are all but extinct. Vader is the only one left, and you are not him.]
"It will do you no good to underestimate my power—my lineage," the figure replied darkly.
Jabba laughed again and this time he was joined by the ragged bunch of gangsters that had now awoken and were watching the confrontation with avid interest.
[Your words do not mean anything, representative,] said Jabba. [I need proof. Yet you offer me none. Just like you offer me no proof that it wasn't the Empire who attacked my shipment.]
"Two TIE fighters were stolen from the local Imperial outpost the night before the attack on your shipment. Check the records yourself." The figure pulled out a small data card from under his cloak and tossed it on the floor in front of the dais. Jabba didn't even look at it.
[Records can be faked. What proof do you have that it was the Rebels?]
"I think you're the one with the proof, Jabba," the figure replied as he turned again to look at the wall to the left of the dais. "The Empire has no use for a smuggler like Solo. The Alliance used the attack on your shipment as a cover for their rescue of Solo and used the stolen TIEs to implicate the Empire while they were at it. But you already knew that, didn't you?" The figure turned to face Jabba again. "You're just playing us for money."
[The Empire promised me safe and unhindered trade in these parts. They failed and now they must pay.]
"No," said the figure. "The Empire gave you free reign over the trade routes in this sector and promised no interference with your dealings. They did not promise you security. If you cannot protect your own shipments, then it is your own problem. Lord Vader will not reimburse you for your losses, Jabba. I did not come here to negotiate or bargain. If you will not see reason and withdraw your declaration of war against the Empire, then I am afraid this will be the end of our dealings. You asked for proof of my Jedi lineage, then here it is."
And from beneath his cloak, the figure pulled out a silver and black lightsaber hilt. The tension in the audience chamber skyrocketed and suddenly twenty blasters were tracked on the hooded figure. But before anyone could fire, Jabba raised his hand.
The Hutt gave another laugh, although this one was nowhere near as loud or booming as the previous ones.
[You are clearly outnumbered, Jedi. Even your laser sword will not save you. Perhaps your head on a platter would make Vader reconsider. But then again, perhaps not, for he cares for no one. Either way, I would like to see your face before you die. Show yourself."
The figure didn't even hesitate to pull back his hood. The dark, black material gave way to a mop of sandy blond hair and startling blue eyes. Jabba's eyes widened and a few hushed whispers echoed around the chamber.
[Luke Skywalker,] the Hutt rumbled. [There has been many a rumour circling the space lanes about you. The main one being that you're dead.]
"And yet here I am," Luke replied.
[And yet here you are, indeed. Clothed in the garb of an Imperial and doing the bidding of Vader. Quite the unusual position for a hero of the Rebellion to be in, wouldn't you say?]
"Hardly, considering the second rumour about me is that I'm a traitor."
[Indeed,] the Hutt rumbled. He studied Luke for a moment and then smiled wickedly. [You should have stayed dead.]
"Oh, I intend to."
Jabba dropped his hand and all the blasters in the room seemed to go off at once. Luke ducked and spun leftwards, igniting his father's saber with a snap-hiss and letting his cloak slide off his shoulders onto the floor. Red light painted his first two victims as he slashed out at their torsos. They fell to the ground screaming and smoking.
[Kill him!] Jabba roared over the sound of continued blaster fire.
Luke deflected two laser bolts and sent them flying back at the ones who had fired them. He didn't even wait to see if he hit his mark, for the room was in utter chaos and the Force was screaming at him from all sides. He spun around wildly, lightsaber slicing through flesh and bone, and as he ducked to avoid an incoming laser bolt he pulled his vibroblade out of his belt and twisted it into a reverse grip.
Now, doubly armed, it took little more than a minute for the surrounding band of Jabba's cronies to fall or flee. Luke pulled his saber out of the last of them and turned his blade on Jabba. The slug recoiled from the glowing red tip, but his size prevented him from going any further.
The Hutt gave a shaky laugh. [You are a skilled warrior, Skywalker. Perhaps we can come to an agreement.]
"It's too late for that now, Jabba," Luke said, eyes flashing with the glint of excitement that comes from vigorous close combat. "You know I'm alive, and, like I said, I'd prefer it if no one knew that. Dead men tell no tales, Jabba. Well, in this case, dead Hutts."
Luke swung his saber back, ready to make the killing blow, but Jabba lifted his hands, sputtering.
[I will withdraw my declaration of war on the Empire!]
"Not good enough."
[And I don't need reimbursement. It was the Rebels who were responsible for the attack on my shipment!]
Luke lowered his saber.
"I'm glad you've seen sense," he said as he switched off the weapon. The great Hutt sighed with relief. "But, unfortunately for you, I do not care for you or for your relations with the Empire."
The red lightsaber blade was back on and at Jabba's throat in a second.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to kill you—wanted to make you pay for the suffering you inflicted on the people of this planet." Luke's breathing was shallow and he was shaking slightly from exertion, yet the hand that held the lightsaber was still. "And now I finally have the power to do it."
[I don't believe you have it within you to kill me.]
Luke raised his eyebrows and shot a quick glance down at the bodies littering the floor.
"Really?"
[You are a Jedi and I am unarmed. Jedi do not commit murder.]
"I am leaving that path behind," Luke said. "In fact, your death will win me a place at Vader's side as his apprentice."
[Then your actions are in vain,] Jabba replied and Luke could tell that he was attempting to play for time. Luke's eyes darted sideways, searching for the Hutt's majordomo. [Vader shares his power with no one.]
Luke shot a glance at Jabba, although he left his senses focused on the surroundings. "He will with his son."
The Hutt's eyes widened, but Luke took no notice for a short warning flickered through the Force and he turned around swiftly and plunged his glowing red blade straight through Bib Fortuna's chest. The majordomo let out a startled, choking gasp and the long, deadly knife he held fell from his hands. Luke watched the light in the Twi'lek's eyes flicker but did not pull the blade out. Instead, he pushed it in further, eliciting a strangled cry from Fortuna.
"I'm afraid you know far too much about me now, Jabba," he whispered as Fortuna's Force presence finally flickered out. He let the body slide off his blade, then turned slowly to face Jabba. The Hutt was positively squirming now and Luke could feel his fear trembling through the Force. He smiled. "It's been a long time coming, so I shall put it off no longer. Finally, the galaxy will be rid of your fiendish cruelty."
Jabba opened his mouth in a cry of protest, but Luke's blade was too fast. The red beam of light sliced straight through the Hutt's neck, separating the bulbous head from the wretched body. Luke switched off his saber and stepped back to look over his work.
It was done. Finally, Jabba the Hutt was dead. Finally, the thousands of innocents that the gangster had tortured and killed had been avenged. Finally, the community could rest easy.
Luke clipped the saber to his belt and slipped his vibroblade back in its sheath. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair—and was surprised to find that his fingers were shaking. He looked downwards and wave of dizziness washed over him. He stumbled sideways and only barely missed the laser bolt that sizzled past his ear.
Luke spun around frantically, senses snapping back to alertness. The few of Jabba's cronies that had fled during the fight had now returned. Luke called his saber swiftly to his hand, igniting it as he did so and blocked the three incoming blaster bolts. Two rebounded back at their firers but the third sizzled into the wall. Luke growled and was about to throw a push at the remaining cronie when the Force screamed at him. But he was too slow to react and suddenly a red hot pain shot through his right hand. He cried out in pain and turned swiftly to slice straight through the person who had tried to sneak up on him. The mercenary's body hit the ground with a soft thud and his head rolled a metre away across the chamber floor.
Luke turned a fiery gaze on the remaining gangster and he didn't even blink as the man crumpled swiftly, the sound of bones splintering echoing throughout the room.
Luke turned his attention to his hand. The laser blast that had hit him had burned straight through the synthetic flesh, leaving a charred hole in the back of his hand. The inner workings of the prosthetic were exposed and Luke grimaced as he carefully pushed what remaining synthflesh existed back into place. He stretched his fingers experimentally. A soft twinge shot up his arm at the movement, but it was bearable.
Luke closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The dizziness was starting to come back now and he felt so exhausted. He just wanted to return to the Executor and sleep...
No. He had a job to finish. Undoubtedly there would be more of Jabba's gangsters spread throughout the palace. He couldn't risk any of them finding out about these events and exposing him to the galaxy. Not yet, at least.
Luke reached out into the Force, reached past his shields and into the surroundings. There were at least twenty sentient beings on the lower floor and a handful spread throughout the towers. Luke opened his eyes and stepped forwards.
He moved throughout the palace swiftly and silently, only igniting his saber to make a killing blow. Screams echoed throughout the passages and the Force went cold with the fear of the dying. Luke was not oblivious to this, but it did not sicken him as it would have a couple of weeks ago. Instead, he relished in it, using the fear of his victims to draw power from the Dark Side.
When the last Force presence flickered out in the palace, Luke exhaled sharply and snapped his saber off. He stood for a moment, breathing deeply, and then suddenly he was bracing himself against a wall. His head was spinning dangerously and his vision was warping at the same time. Luke gasped and shut his eyes.
Pain. Fear. Anger. All those powerful emotions rushed at him through the Force and he was not ready to deflect it. They pushed through him, making his body ice cold and setting his mind on fire.
Luke opened his eyes and looked down at the bodies in front of him. He was back in the main audience chamber, although how he got there he did not know. His breathing was shallow and his body was trembling as his eyes skimmed over the carnage. He had looked over the bodies before, over their twisted and charred forms, yet now it seemed different. Before, he had barely given them a thought, so focused had he been on killing Jabba, but now… Now, the exhilaration of combat and the bloodlust of the Dark Side had worn off and he felt… sick.
Luke raised a shaking hand to his mouth as the reality of his actions sunk in.
What had he done?
His breathing was picking up now and he knew that if he lingered any longer, he would be physically sick. He moved quickly to collect his black cloak from the floor and swung it over his shoulders as he moved past the fallen mercenaries to the main stairs. He paused as he reached the beginning of them and cast one last look back at the devastation. His eyes fell immediately to the decapitated Hutt and, despite the sickening feeling that was quickly overtaking his body, a slight smirk crossed his lips.
Then he lifted his hood and ascended the stairs.
.
.
.
An odd chill passed through Leia's body as she sat at her desk looking at the two data cards in front of her. She shivered slightly and the chill disappeared quickly; however, it left a strange, hollowing feeling inside her stomach. She rubbed at her tired eyes and pushed the data cards away.
She hated herself for crying about Luke again, but Han's reaction had just broken her. It was one thing telling it to Lando, who had barely known Luke before his death, but telling it to Han had been almost soul-crushing. Han had known Luke longer than she had and the two of them had formed an almost brotherly relationship over the years. She knew it must have been hard for Han to take in the news. It was hard for all of them. She just wished she could be wrapped up in the smuggler's arms right now, but he had locked himself in his room the moment they had returned to Home One and had not come out of it since. That had been five hours ago.
Leia brushed her hair out of her face and sighed, looking down again at the two data cards on the desk. She also needed to talk to him about Project Cataclysm. She needed advice—and not from someone who was dead. Han, unlike Obi-Wan, would take a more realistic perspective on the Project, one that was grounded and unbiased. The whole prospect of constructing such a dangerous weapon made her queasy and nervous. Was it really necessary to go to such lengths, as Obi-Wan believed? Or were there better options?
Leia sighed and leaned back in her chair. Hopefully, Han would have some answers for her, but she knew that she couldn't push all of this information on him right away. He needed to come to terms with Luke's death first. Still, the threat of an attack from the Empire was growing larger every day. They could only remain hidden for so long; eventually the Empire would find them. And they needed to be prepared for when they did.
Leia's mind wandered and her eyes glossed over as she stared absently at the data cards. But a sharp knock at the door brought her swiftly out of her thoughts.
Leia turned in her chair, heart-rate picking up as she called, "Come in!"
Was it Han? Had he finally come to see her? Could she finally lose herself and her troubles in his embrace?
Leia stared, wide-eyed, at the doorway, but the doors did not open. She frowned and stood up. Perhaps they hadn't heard her?
"Come in!" she called again, but still no one entered, so she moved swiftly to the doorway and thumbed the door release. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh and…
No one was there.
Leia frowned. She could have sworn someone had knocked at her door. She stepped out into the white hallway of Home One, looking left and right. The corridor was deserted, yet something told her she hadn't been wrong. Leia let the doors to her chambers slide closed behind her and moved quickly down the corridor. She turned the corner and there, moving away from her was a young Rebel.
"Excuse me!" she called, a touch of annoyance ringing through in her tones. If this was someone's idea of a practical joke, it wasn't a very good one and she did not have the time for it.
The Rebel spun around to face her and Leia's breath hitched. Blue eyes, blond hair.
"Luke?" she whispered.
"Your Highness?" came the voice of the Rebel, and Leia's heart fell. She shook her head and blinked, mentally cursing herself. Of course, it wasn't Luke. Luke was dead, and he wasn't coming back. Why did her mind have to play such heart-wrenching tricks on her?
She rubbed at her eyes and looked at the Rebel again, and her brow creased lightly. The man wasn't Luke, but he did look awfully like him. He seemed familiar, too, but she couldn't quite recall where she had seen him before…
"Princess Leia?" the Rebel asked, his voice laced with concern as he stepped towards her cautiously. "Are you okay?"
Leia blinked slowly. And then it hit her. Arka III! The man was one of the scouts that she had rescued on that fateful day a couple of weeks ago! Even then, she had likened him to Luke.
Leia stared up at the scout for a few more moments, then shook her head, realising that she had been gaping at him wordlessly for the past minute or so.
"I'm sorry. I, um..." she began. "You just look a lot like my friend."
"Like Commander Skywalker, you mean?" the Rebel asked. His voice was more accented than Luke's, and also more light, suggesting a youthful innocence that Luke had lost somewhere during the events on Cloud City. Leia still hadn't figured out why that was... and she supposed she never would now.
"Yes," she murmured. Then, remembering why she was out in the hallway, she straightened her posture and pushed all of her nostalgic thoughts to the back of her mind. "Were you the one who knocked at my door?"
"Oh, uh." The Rebel rubbed the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I don't know what I was doing, to be honest. Got lost in thought, you know, and then all of a sudden I'm knocking on the wrong door. I apologise for disturbing you, Your Highness. I wasn't even sure you were there, so I figured it was best to leave."
"Oh, okay."
"Anyway," the Rebel continued. "My business with the person that I was looking for is quite important, so I should be going. Sorry again for disturbing you."
"Of course, alright," Leia said, giving the Rebel an acknowledging nod as he turned around left. She watched him walk down the rest of the corridor, a slight crease in her brow. She didn't know why, but something was making her feel uncertain about the whole situation. Maybe it was the Force trying to tell her something. Well, whatever it is, try harder, Leia thought with a huff as she turned and headed back to her room. She didn't like relying on weird vibes and the words of a see-through, old man. She didn't understand the Force—and she didn't want to—yet, she was growing stronger with it every second and it was starting to concern her. Why was this happening now? And why to her? The Force was Luke's thing, not hers.
But she didn't even get a chance to begin wondering about those questions, for the sight that greeted her when she opened the door to her room made all of her thoughts disappear. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest and her eyes widened. Then she rushed forward quickly, right into the arms of the smuggler.
"Oh, Han," she breathed, as she embraced him tightly.
"I don't believe Luke was a traitor," Han whispered. "I don't believe it at all."
As much as she didn't want to let go of her lover, Leia stepped back quickly to look at Han. His eyes were red—even more so than hers—and his expression was sombre.
"You watched the holovids?" she whispered, and it was more of a statement than a question.
Han nodded. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head and dropped his gaze. Leia stepped forward again and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.
She didn't know how long they remained that way, but it was a long time before Han finally broke the embrace.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, not quite meeting her gaze as he stepped back to sit down at the table. "I just… wasn't expecting it, you know?"
"I know."
"I thought he'd be there… to rescue me. I thought you'd all be there, and everything would go back to being like the old days. I thought the world couldn't get any darker."
Leia laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, knowing that silence was the best response.
Han took a deep breath in and Leia almost couldn't hear him as he whispered, "Did you hold a funeral?"
"Yes," she answered, softly. "Although we had no body to bury."
"Where?"
"Yavin 4. It was only a small ceremony."
"It's what Luke would have wanted," Han murmured, nodding slowly. Then, he brushed at his eyes one last time and ran a hand through his hair. He turned a half-hearted, crooked smile on her. "Any other terrible things happen while I was out?"
Leia could tell Han was still struggling to come to terms with the loss of his friend, but she respected his attempt to move the conversation somewhere lighter. Only, her recent thoughts and concerns all came rushing back as she stopped to think over his question, and it must have showed on her face, for Han's brow creased instantly.
"What is it? What happened?"
"I have the Force."
Han's brows now shot skywards. "What?"
Leia cringed and cursed inwardly. She hadn't meant to tell him like that, but it had kind of just slipped out without her control.
"I have the Force," she repeated, trying to keep her demeanour calm as a range of expressions crossed Han's face. "Like Luke," she elaborated when he didn't say anything.
Han still didn't answer, but this time he stood up and turned away from her, rubbing at his face as he did so.
"Han?" Leia asked, quietly. His silence was beginning to unnerve her.
Finally, he turned around and looked at her.
"And what does that mean?" he asked.
"I…" Leia started, confused. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is: are you going to go and get delusions of grandeur, just like Luke?" Han answered, his voice tight. "Are you going to run away and learn about the Force? Become a Jedi Knight? Think you're so infallible that you just hand yourself over to Vader, not once stopping to think about your friends? About me?"
"Han—"
"I can't lose you, too!" Han shouted, and Leia clamped her mouth shut. He stared at her for a few more moments, eyes glittering, then turned away again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that about Luke. I just… It's so hard to think that he's gone. And now there's the potential that Vader might get you, too."
"Vader won't kill me, Han," Leia said. "I'm not going to learn about the Force. I don't want to be a Jedi."
An odd sort of relief came from saying those words. Her mind had been so muddled with conflicting thoughts over the past few weeks that to finally settle on one stance felt incredibly good. She didn't want to be a Jedi. Her place was with the Alliance, and she couldn't just run off to learn about the Force like Luke had. That was not her destiny.
"How did you even realise you're Force sensitive?" Han asked, quietly.
"Obi-Wan told me."
"Obi-Wan? But he's dead!"
"The Jedi have ways of returning through the Force to those who can feel its power," Leia explained. "And, he wasn't lying, Han. I am Force sensitive. I've been having dreams, feeling things—weird vibes, warnings—and it's growing stronger every day. It's a part of me, Han. I can't change that. But I'm not going to let it change me. My place is with the Alliance and I won't abandon that."
She felt like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince Han, but, either way, it felt good to voice her deepest thoughts. She had ground to stand on now. She wouldn't let this new discovery tear her down. She was stronger than that.
Han sighed as he looked at her, then stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Just promise me one thing," he whispered.
"What's that?"
"Don't give me any of that mystical, hocus pocus nonsense," he said quietly.
Leia laughed softly.
"No, I'm serious," Han said. "If you ever 'see' anything through the Force, or have a feeling about something. I want you to tell me straight away—and don't feel the need to lie to me about it. I want the truth. No matter how terrible it is, I want you to know that I'm here for you."
"I promise, Han," she whispered. "And, thank you."
She closed her eyes, trying to sink into the warm safety of Han's chest, but the nagging feeling at the back of her mind wouldn't let her. She took a deep breath.
"There's just one more thing."
Han groaned and released her. "What now?"
Leia hurried over to her filing cabinet and keyed in her passcode. "I need you to look at something for me. And you'll want to sit down for this."
.
.
.
Luke fiddled absently with the black glove on his right hand as the shuttle walkway lowered in front of him. He had placed the garment over the top of the burned synthflesh soon after leaving Tatooine. The prosthetic was something that he had never truly gotten used to, but at least it usually looked normal. Now, however, he could see the inner workings of it and it made him feel uncomfortable.
As soon as the rampway stopped moving, Luke stepped out of the shuttle and onto the Executor's shiny hanger bay floor. Almost immediately, a young Imperial tech dressed in black stepped forward and gave him a nod.
"Lord Vader awaits your presence on the command bridge, my Lord," the tech said in his clipped Coruscanti tones.
"I'll be there shortly," Luke responded, although he barely heard his own words.
He brushed past the tech and stepped out into the large, grey hallway. It was quite busy at this hour, with officers hurrying between corridors and mouse droids scurrying underfoot, but Luke didn't notice any of them.
His mind was blank and his body, numb. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, yet it wasn't slow enough. He needed to stop. To think. To breathe.
Luke heaved slightly and suddenly the dizziness was back. He had managed to contain it on the journey back to the Executor, but perhaps that hadn't been the right thing to do, for now it seemed even worse. Luke stumbled to the left and slipped through a doorway into an empty store room.
He fell roughly against the wall and then slid slowly to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest. His whole body was shaking, but no matter how hard he tried to calm himself with the Force, he just couldn't do it. He cursed inwardly and then thrust his mental shields up with as much effort as he could. He didn't want Vader anywhere near his thoughts right now.
Luke clenched his fists and dug his nails into his skin as hard as he could. The pain was dull but it was enough to clear his mind a little. Clear enough, perhaps, to do something he hadn't done in a while.
Luke breathed in slowly and closed his eyes. Then, he reached out into the Force—reached out with eyes only looking for the Light. But the Light shied away from him. It recoiled from his reach and slipped even further from his grasp. Luke tried to reach for it again, but it eluded him, and his heart rate began to pick up as the words of Master Yoda slipped into his head.
"Once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."
Luke's connection to the Force slipped suddenly as he realised the startling truth of his former master's words. But no... Surely there was a way back... A way back to the light… Wasn't there?
Another voice slipped into his head. This time, it was his mother's.
"Focus on the good and you will not fall."
"I'm sorry, mother," Luke whispered, his voice thick. "I'm sorry. I failed. Please forgive me."
But there was no response.
A strong wave of hopelessness washed over him in that moment and he pulled his knees even closer to his chest and buried his head in them. He let out a small sob.
Had he really gone too far?
He snorted softly at that thought. The answer was most obviously yes. After all, he had just murdered at least fifty people. And the worst part was that he had enjoyed it. And not only that, but he wanted more. More death, more screams, more pain.
More power.
He knew he shouldn't. But he did. But no! That was wrong!
Luke breathed in deeply, trying to quell the queasiness that was quickly spreading through his stomach. This inner conflict, this constant struggle between what was right and what was wrong, what he wanted and what he knew he shouldn't, had been raging ever since Vader had given him a taste of the Dark Side. And it was slowly driving him mad.
He had enjoyed taking those lives earlier, yet he knew that wasn't right. In fact, it was very, very wrong. But what else was he to do? It wasn't like he could just walk away and return to the Alliance like nothing had happened...
Or could he?
It wasn't like Vader was holding him here against his will. Yes, there was the deal he had struck with Vader, but he was more than capable of protecting his friends if Vader ever tried to attack them. But would they even want his protection? Would they welcome him back?
Most likely not.
They thought he was a traitor, after all. And they weren't exactly wrong about that.
Still, if he could convince them otherwise... They could save him. Save him from this dark fate of deception and death...
Luke grabbed onto that thought like a lifeline and pushed himself up off the ground. He brushed the creases out of his uniform and, with a renewed sense of determination, he left the room and headed back off in the direction of the hangar bay.
He knew it now. The Dark path was not an option. He had to return to the Alliance, return to the Light and then return to save his father.
Luke brushed past the various techs and officers without a sideward glance. His mind was too busy running over the layout of the hangar bay and the various ships stationed within it. He could easily take a Lambda-class shuttle and pilot it on his own. No one would object to him taking it and he would be long gone before they even realised he wasn't intending on coming back.
Luke entered the hangar bay and without stopping, headed straight towards the closest shuttle. He had never flown one before—Vader had assigned him a personal pilot for the trip to Tatooine—but he figured it couldn't be too hard. He stepped closer to the shuttle and his mind was so busy running over the likely flight prep that he almost didn't hear the dark, booming voice from behind him. Almost.
"Just where do you think you're going?"
Luke whipped around instantly. "I'm leaving," he growled at the dark figure of his father. He didn't know how Vader had found him, for his mental shields had been holding the entire time, but it didn't bother him. Actually, he was glad his father was here. He wanted to make his point. "I'm returning to the Alliance. I don't care about our deal and if you want to try and stop me, then go ahead."
Luke reached for Vader's saber, which was still clipped to his belt. The silver and black hilt slid smoothly into his hand and he gripped it with a fiery determination.
But Vader's next words made him loosen his grasp on the weapon.
"If you want to leave, then leave."
"You're... You're not going to stop me?" Luke asked, mild confusion etched on his face.
"You are free to go if you wish," Vader rumbled. "I ask only that you return my lightsaber."
Vader extended his hand and Luke eyed it hesitantly. Was Vader playing him? Luke glanced at his father's expressionless mask and extended his senses, but he could sense no dishonesty from Vader.
He was about to query this unusual occurrence further, but chose to hand over the lightsaber instead. If Vader was letting him go without any consequences, then he would go.
"Goodbye, father," Luke said and then turned back towards the shuttle.
But he hadn't even gone two steps before Vader spoke again.
"Even I do not know the location of the Rebels. How do you plan on finding them?"
Luke paused, a flicker of concern spreading through his stomach. He hadn't thought of that. The Alliance was on the run. Not even the Empire knew their location...
"The Force will guide me back," he supplied, although his uncertainty rang clear through his tone.
"They won't accept you back, you know that. Not after what you've done."
"They don't need to know what I've done," Luke replied, a flame of anger hardening his words.
"The truth always finds its way to the surface, Luke," Vader countered, then changed topics. "Didn't you ever wonder why the Alliance took so hungrily to your 'betrayal'?"
"I assumed it was because you did a pretty decent job of faking that footage of me handing over Alliance intel," Luke growled, turning to shoot Vader a hard glare.
"Yes, but showing them the footage would not have worked if they didn't already doubt you, Luke."
Luke clenched his jaw but did not respond.
"And they didn't just doubt you, Luke. They lied to you and concealed information. They didn't trust you. None of them did. Not even the Princess."
"You're lying," Luke said.
"Have you ever heard of Project Cataclysm?"
Luke blinked and shifted slightly on his feet. No, he hadn't, but he wasn't about to let Vader know that. "There are a lot of Alliance projects that I've never heard of," he replied evenly.
"I don't believe that for a second."
Luke gritted his teeth. "And what exactly is 'Project Cataclysm'?" he asked, covering his intrigue with skepticism.
"We do not have much information on it as of yet, although I believe we might have a breakthrough in that matter soon," Vader rumbled and Luke narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering about the implications of his father's words. "But what we do know, is in here." Vader extended a small datapad, which Luke took hesitantly.
He turned the screen on and looked down at it. A slight frown creased his brow as he noticed that the datapad was quite dated. HIs eyes roamed over the screen and he was quite surprised to find that the device had no holonet connection. Actually, it didn't seem to have a connection to anything at all.
"There is security in old devices," Vader explained, noticing Luke's confusion. "Even the Alliance does not keep information about this project on their databases. The information on that datapad is what my spy managed to obtain from a piece of flimsy in the archives aboard Home One. It is the only record available regarding Project Cataclysm. We suspect that the rest of the information is either being kept under high level security or is located in the minds of those assigned to the project."
Luke raised his eyebrows slightly, but did not open the document.
"Do you really expect me to believe all this?" he asked.
"It matters not whether you believe it, Luke, but it is the truth."
"Why are you showing me this?" Luke asked. "Are you trying to convince me to stay? Because if you are, there would be better ways. Just because the Alliance didn't fill me in on this project, doesn't mean they didn't trust me. And it doesn't mean they won't accept me back." He knew he was trying to convince himself more than Vader, but he didn't care. He had made his decision to leave and he wasn't going to change his mind simply because of Vader's claims. For all he knew, Vader could have forged the file, just like he had forged the footage of his 'betrayal'.
"You should read the file before you make any judgements, Luke. But no, I am not trying to convince you to stay, although I would be pleased if you did. I am asking for your help."
"My help?" Luke asked, slightly taken aback by those words.
"I believe this project is some sort of weapon, although I need more information to confirm that fact. You're the only one who can get it for me."
"I don't understand," Luke said, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know anything about the project. I can't give you any information on it."
"No, but you can get it for me," Vader rumbled darkly.
Luke shook his head and extended the datapad back towards Vader. "No. I won't help you. I'm returning to the Alliance. To my friends."
"Then it'll interest you to know that it was your 'friend' the Princess who authorised the project," Vader said. "And her, also, who expressly stated that under no circumstances should you ever be involved with it."
"Do you expect me to believe that?" Luke raised his eyebrows.
"Look at the file, Luke."
Luke hesitated for a moment, but finally tapped the Project Cataclysm file open. He quickly skimmed the document, which was only a page long, and then returned to the top to read it in detail. He frowned slightly. Basically, it was a list of names. The people involved in the project were listed at the top, and the people who were prohibited from being involved due to 'security reasons' were listed at the bottom.
'Luke Skywalker' was in the bottom section.
Luke shot Vader a skeptical glance. "You faked the footage of my 'betrayal' and death," he said. "You could have easily faked this as well."
"Why would I do that?" Vader rumbled.
"To convince me to stay."
"I already told you: that is not my intent. Look at the signature."
Luke frowned slightly, but returned his gaze to the page. Down at the very bottom was a signature. It was so small that he had to zoom in to get a better look at it. The writing was curved, but sharp, and awfully familiar. It was very rare for Leia to actually sign a document—after all, most things were done electronically these days—yet Luke had seen her signature once or twice. And this was definitely it.
He shook his head. "Leia experienced the destruction of her own planet by the power of a superweapon. There is no way that she'd authorise the construction of her own." But even as he said those words, a faint flicker of doubt crept into the back of his mind. Why hadn't she told him about this? Why was his name on the prohibited list?
Because Vader had faked it, that was why.
Luke shook his head again, but for a different reason this time.
"No, I don't believe you," he said as he handed the datapad back to Vader. His gaze lingered on the device, however, and he couldn't help but feel that Vader was actually telling the truth. But, no. That was ridiculous! Wasn't it? Well, he wouldn't exactly put it past Leia to seek revenge, but a superweapon? That was pushing it a little. Still, he was getting an odd feeling from the Force…
"You might not believe me, but perhaps you will believe the two Rebels whose names are on that list."
Luke looked at Vader.
"We intercepted them a number of weeks ago," Vader elaborated. "They are currently in the cellbay, if you wish to speak with them."
Luke frowned. "If you have them then why do you need me? Can't you just torture the information out of them?"
"They have proven to be quite resistant to our mind probes."
Luke's frown deepened and he looked away from Vader, running the new information over in his mind. Honestly, he didn't know what to think. It would have been very easy for Vader to fake the file, but the Force was telling him that that wasn't the case. Then why had he been excluded from this project? Especially when he had held such a high security clearance. Was it really because they hadn't trusted him? Or was there another reason? And, most importantly, what exactly was Project Cataclysm and why was Leia's signature on the file?
"The Rebels won't tell me anything," Luke said, turning back to look at Vader. "I'm a traitor to them. They won't even give me a word."
"Fortunately, these Rebels were captured before your 'betrayal'," Vader rumbled. "They are unaware of your current situation."
Luke exhaled slowly.
"You can leave now if you wish," Vader said. "Or you can speak to the Rebels and decide later. Just know that your placement as my apprentice is still open. You served me well today and I am willingly to repay you for that."
Luke looked to the ground, conflict running deep through his veins. His eyes flitted restlessly across the floor as he tossed up the various options. After a long moment's silence, he finally settled on a decision.
He looked up at Vader and asked, "Do you still have my old Alliance fatigues?"
.
.
.
"No."
"No? What do you mean 'no'?"
"I mean: this is an incredibly dangerous weapon, Leia," Han said, looking up from the scattered array of flimsies. "And I would in no way condone the use of it. Not even against the Empire."
"Not even after what they did to Luke?" Leia asked, crossing her arms.
Han grimaced slightly, then sighed, looking down at the files spread across the desk. He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
"Han, we need to increase our defences. We can only hide from the Empire for so long." Leia wasn't sure why she was suddenly so defensive about Project Cataclysm. Ever since Obi-Wan had proposed the resurrection of the project she had been torn inwardly about whether to actually construct it or not. But it seemed that her inner self had grown quite accustomed to the idea of the project, for Han's disagreement made her angry.
"This is not the answer, Leia. Far from it, actually."
"Then what are we supposed to do when the Death Star shows up on our doorstep? We'll hardly be as lucky as last time."
Han's eyes widened. "Death Star? The Empire's constructed another one?"
"Yes," Leia replied. "And this one's even bigger than the last. And more powerful, too."
Han sighed. "Even still, this weapon… Leia, you have to understand. The way it works… Even the slightest error could be devastating. It's more likely to go wrong than right. Your father discontinued the project for that very reason. It's too dangerous."
Leia huffed. She knew Han was right, but if what Obi-Wan had said to her was true… Something dark was coming, and the Alliance would surely be destroyed if they didn't have the right defences. And sometimes, in order to win a battle, you had to be willing to take risks, even if they had the chance of reaping devastating consequences.
"Leia, please listen to me," Han said, gathering the flimsies into a somewhat neat pile. "You're better off just putting all this back in your filing cabinet and forgetting about it. No one's ever going to let you authorise this."
"It's already been authorised," Leia said quietly. "And it has been for many years now. In fact, it never truly got put away. It's always been there as a back-up, waiting in the background, ready to be called upon if necessary. I never even considered using it—like you said, it's too dangerous—but I always updated the files and gave out the orders when necessary. But now… Han, something bad is coming. I've felt it and so has Obi-Wan. I—"
"Wait a second," Han interrupted. His expression had slowly been creeping into a deep frown throughout her speech and now it could almost be considered a glare. "Obi-Wan? He's the one who conned you into this?"
"Han—"
"No, Leia," Han growled. "Luke used to listen to Obi-Wan all the time. He trusted his word without even the slightest presentation of evidence, and look where that got him! I'm not going to let that happen to you. I'm not going to let this thing destroy you, Leia."
"It won't destroy me, Han."
"How do you know? What if it all goes terribly wrong? Who's to blame then? I'll tell you who. You. And not even I will be able to help you then."
"Han—"
"And then there's also the issue of what will happen if the Empire gets their hands on this thing!" Han shouted. "Or did you not consider that?"
"We have failsafes for that," Leia replied indignantly.
"Failsafes? I've read about your 'failsafes', Leia," Han said, jabbing a finger at the pile of flimsies on the desk. "And they're not going to be good enough against the Empire. All they're going to do is get innocent men killed!"
Leia huffed angrily. "Han, with what's coming, I don't think we have a choice. And besides, everyone who signed up for this knows the risks."
Han looked like he was about to continue arguing, but he suddenly clamped his mouth shut and sunk into silence. He stared at her for a few moments, his brow slightly creased and his eyes roaming her face. Then he sighed.
"Just please tell me one thing," he said quietly. "Please tell me this thing isn't operational."
Leia swallowed softly. "Not yet," she replied. "But all the preparations have been made. All I need to do is give the word."
Han shoved his chair back and stood up swiftly. Then he turned and began walking towards the door.
"Han, wait—" Leia started.
"I think you should reconsider your actions, Leia," he said as the doors slid open. "We're not Imperials. We can fight a better war."
And then he left.
.
.
.
Luke pulled at his collar as he strode down the grey hallway of the Executor. He had gotten so used to his black Imperial uniform over the past number of days that his old Alliance fatigues felt incredibly foreign. Granted, these weren't actually his fatigues—those had been incinerated almost immediately after they had been removed from his body. These, Vader had mysteriously procured from the Executor's stores. Most likely they had belonged to some former Rebel who had died an unfortunate death at the hand of Vader.
Luke rounded the corner and entered the cell bay, pulling out a blaster as he did so. The officers stationed around the room fell instantly, stunned by Luke's quick and efficient shots before they could even register his presence. Luke strode past them without a backwards glance. The Rebels, Vader had informed him, were being held in the cell at the very end of the bay.
Luke moved quickly up the steps and jogged down the cell-lined corridor. If he wanted to win the Rebel's trust and get the information he wanted, he had to make this look convincing. He slowed slightly as he reached the cell and keyed in the unlock code without even glancing at the keypad. The door slid open with a whoosh and the two Rebels looked up at him. Their shocked expressions quickly turned to ones of hope, and one of them whispered, "Commander Skywalker?"
Luke gave them a roguish grin. "I'm here to rescue you. We don't have much time. Let's go."
The Rebels bounded up off the floor and Luke took off down the hallway, with the Rebels following close behind. Together, they rushed down the cell bay and out into the main reception area. Luke jumped over the body of one of the unconscious officers, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and then sprinted out into the hallway, which was deserted. The next one, however, wouldn't be.
Luke slowed his pace to half and gestured to the Rebels to do the same. They kept to the walls, moving swiftly, but silently down the corridor. Luke slowed to a halt as they neared the end of the passage and motioned for the Rebels to stay back. He leaned out slightly to get a glimpse of the next hallway, then quickly pulled himself back in, eyes widening at the sight of a nonexistent threat.
He turned towards the Rebels and began ushering them back the way they had come.
"This way. Quickly," he whispered. They rushed a couple metres down the hallway, before Luke hit a button on the wall and pulled them all into a small, sparsely furnished room. The Rebels stumbled from the sudden change in direction, but managed to keep their balance. They looked around quickly before turning curious expressions on Luke.
"Where to now, Commander?" the taller one asked. His light brown hair was roughly tousled and his dark green eyes were rimmed with red. They had certainly been through a lot during their time as Imperial prisoners, but Luke couldn't find it within himself to feel sorry for them.
"We need to wait a couple of minutes for my friends to set off the diversion. Then, we should be good to go," Luke said quickly, the lie sliding easily from his lips as the door to the room hissed shut "What are your names?"
"Kip and Dunn," the taller one answered, giving a slight nod in the direction of his partner as he said the second name. "If I might ask, Commander, why did you come to rescue us?"
Luke frowned. "Because you're important, of course," he replied. "Imagine if the Imperials found out about Project Cataclysm. It would be a devastating end for us all."
Both the Rebels tensed at the mention of the project, but it was so slight and controlled that Luke was only able to pick up on it through the Force.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Commander," said Kip, his heavy brows creased in a frown.
"Come now, you can tell me," Luke said, letting the influencing tones of the Force creep into his voice. "I have the clearance. And after all, we might not all make it out of here. I need you to tell me everything you know just in case the both of you don't make it back."
Kip shook his head. "I'm sorry, Commander, but I can't talk about that."
"You will tell me everything," Luke repeated, this time adding a slight wave of his hand to his words. "I have the clearance."
"I'm sorry, Commander, but you do not," said Dunn. "And if you're attempting to manipulate our minds with your Jedi powers, then I'm afraid it won't work. We're immune to the persuasion of the Force."
Luke's brow crinkled at those words. Immune? He reached out into the Force and, sure enough, the Rebels' minds were closed to him. He didn't have the time to think about how that was possible, for the Rebels were regarding him with wary looks.
He smiled lightly in an attempt to ease the growing tension in the room.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said. "But you must understand. This information is very important to the survival of the Alliance. It is essential that it makes it off this ship. I have been given special clearance by Mon Mothma to—"
Luke cut himself off instantly as he realised those were the wrong words to say. Even though their minds were closed to him, Luke could still get a general sense of the Rebels' emotions through the way they moved in the Force. And the mention of Mon Mothma had brought instant alarm and concern to their minds.
"But it's not Mon Mothma who's in charge," Luke whispered quietly to himself, cursing inwardly at his stupidity. His gaze hardened as he looked at the Rebels. "It's Leia, isn't it?"
Dunn shook his head. "Commander, I don't know how you found out about the project, but you must understand that we cannot speak to you about it."
"Why not?" Luke asked, the hardness now moving to his voice.
"Security reasons," Kip supplied.
Luke raised his eyebrows. "'Security reasons'," he echoed drily. "Does that mean you don't trust me?"
"Commander, what about our escape," Kip said, eyeing the door which Luke was blocking. "Shouldn't we be going?"
"Answer my question and then we'll leave," Luke growled. The fire inside him that he had managed to quell earlier was beginning to flicker to life again, but he made no move to stop it. The Rebel's avoidance of his question almost certainly confirmed what Vader had been saying. They didn't trust him. They never had.
"Commander—"
"Sit down," Luke snapped, throwing his attempted facade out the window. The Rebels recoiled at his outburst but made no move to obey his command. Luke gestured to the table and chairs that lay to the side of them. "Sit," he repeated.
"But what about—"
"I wouldn't worry about your escape now, Dunn," Luke said coldly. "You've all but missed your opportunity. Now, please, sit down."
The Rebels shot each other a concerned glance, but did what he had asked, albeit rather slowly. Luke keyed the lock on the door and then slipped into the chair opposite the Rebels.
"Now, I want you to tell me all about Project Cataclysm," he said, folding his arms on top of the table. "And if you don't cooperate, I will have no choice but to force it out of you."
"You won't get anything out of us," said Kip defiantly. "Your Jedi ways won't affect us."
"Really? I have some methods in mind that I think might work." Luke shot them a wicked smirk.
The Rebels stared at him in concerned silence, neither of them knowing how to react to the unusual behaviour of their famed Commander. The tension in the room had now transformed into a cold, fear-ridden chill and Luke revelled in it. His concerns about the Dark Side were long forgotten, replaced instead by the adrenaline and excitement of the impending interrogation.
"Well, if no one's going to talk, then I'll have to start forcing it out of you," Luke said, raising his eyebrows. "Who wants to go first?"
"We'll never tell you anyth—AAAH!"
Dunn's words warped into a strangled cry of pain as a sickening crack resounded about the room. Kip started in shock and his hand flew to his mouth as he looked at his partner who was cradling his left hand in his right, his index finger bent in an extremely unnatural position. Luke hadn't even blinked.
Kip turned a horror-filled gaze on Luke as Dunn continued to grit his teeth against the pain.
"You're… You're an Imperial?"
"How very astute of you." Luke's eyes were cold and they glittered with a fierce intensity that indicated that he was enjoying this way more than he should have been given his previous alignment. "Now, start talking."
"I…" Kip gaped, still horror-struck. "I don't—"
Crack.
Dunn screamed in pain as a second finger snapped.
Kip's eyes widened and his face paled. "Okay, okay, I—"
"No, don't tell him anything, Kip. AAAH!" Dunn cried out again as a third finger snapped.
"Shut up," Luke growled in the direction of the screaming Rebel. Then he turned his gaze on Kip and raised his eyebrows.
Kip was practically white by now and his panic was evident in his shaking fingers.
"I - I don't know much, but I'll tell you everything I know," he stuttered, trying to avoid Luke's cold gaze, but also trying to avoid the sight of his partner's broken fingers. Both were making him feel incredibly sick.
"Speak quickly."
"It's - It's a weapon."
Crack.
"I know that much already," Luke hissed, keeping his eyes locked on Kip. The Rebel was trembling visibly and his eyes kept flickering to Dunn who was hissing in pain. "What does it do?"
"I don't know," Kip replied, but continued hurriedly when Luke raised his eyebrows. "All I know is that it's capable of taking down a Star Destroyer. Maybe even something larger."
Luke had assumed that much already. Just the title of the project indicated that it wasn't some mild laser cannon. If the Rebels were going to such lengths to conceal it, it had to be incredibly powerful. Powerful enough, even, to take on the Death Star.
"What else do you know?" Luke asked.
"Don't… tell him…" Dunn grit out. The man was shaking and his face was deathly white, yet he still had the nerve to speak up.
Luke turned his hard gaze on Dunn. "I told you to be quiet," he hissed, and this time he moved his grip on the Force away from the man's fingers. He trailed it up the man's body, searching for the perfect place. Then he pulled lightly.
Dunn gasped and his face contorted. He clutched at his chest with his good hand, his breathing shallow and laboured.
Luke turned again to Kip, who was staring at his friend in a wide-eyed mixture of concern, dread and horror. "Tell me everything you know."
Dunn shook his head quickly, despite the pain. "Don't—"
The crack that followed was the loudest yet, and the scream that Dunn let out was ear-piercing, although it quickly subsided to a wheezing wail. Dunn heaved heavily and then coughed, a trickle of blood spilling out the side of his mouth. The snapped rib must have punctured a lung.
Kip's chin was trembling as he looked at Luke. "You're a monster," he whispered.
Luke leaned back in his chair. Unlike previous times, his body wasn't shaking and his mind seemed perfectly clear. He almost felt at ease, and he shot Kip a smirk to show it. "Shall I break another of his ribs, or are you going to talk?"
Kip swallowed nervously, but nodded. He tore his eyes away from Dunn, and locked them on Luke.
"There are… codes," Kip said shakily. "Codes that are necessary for the operation of the weapon." He trailed off quietly as Dunn's wheezing coughs worsened.
"Go on," Luke encouraged.
"Each of them is protected by a small group of Rebels…"
"Where?"
"There are… ten bases. I—"
"Kip, don't," wheezed Dunn, although Luke was sure the man must've regretted those words almost instantly, for a second rib splintered with yet another chilling crack. Dunn fell backwards in his chair, no longer able to support himself because of the pain. His breathing was short and shallow, and blood was spilling from his lips at an alarming rate. Luke had never felt such a raw desire to kill someone before. Yes, he had wanted to. But this… this was almost animal. He extended his reach with the Force and gripped Dunn's neck tightly. The man's breathing stuttered even further and he clutched at his throat, trying to tear the invisible fingers away.
"Tell me where the bases are," Luke whispered to Kip, his expression eerily calm. "Or I will snap his neck."
Kip gaped silently for a moment, horror shining bright in his eyes, but then he quickly tried to compose himself and started listing the names of the planets where the bases were located. Luke listened intently.
"So, these codes will activate the weapon?" he asked, once Kip had finished with the list.
Kip nodded quickly.
"Does the Alliance have other copies of these codes or are they only kept at these bases?"
"Only - only at the bases," Kip whispered.
Luke studied him for a moment. He couldn't read the man's mind, but he still got the sense that he was telling the truth. Or, at least, what he thought was the truth. Often the best way to keep a military secret from being uncovered by the enemy was to only keep the knowledge of the real details to a select few. Everyone else only knew parts of the secret, or false information. Luke's eyes roamed the man's face, doing a triple-check for any warning signs that indicated he was lying. But all he found was scared, fear-driven sincerity. Luke sighed.
Either way, Project Cataclysm existed and that was all that really mattered. The Alliance had kept this information from him, just like Vader had said. They had never trusted him. Not even Leia.
Luke nodded slowly. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said quietly.
Kip swallowed nervously, his eyes flitting across Luke's face. Then he whispered, "I know, now, why they never allowed you to know about it. Were you always an Imperial? Or did you defect?"
Luke's gaze hardened. "What do you think?"
"From the way you're acting, I'd assume you were always an Imp," Kip said quietly. "But my heart tells me otherwise. You betrayed us, didn't you?"
Luke gave a small, cold smile in response.
"Then, I hope Princess Leia uses this weapon against you," Kip said. "I hope she uses it against the fleet. And I hope you're on this ship when it happens. A fast death is not what you deserve, but as long as you die at the hand of a Rebel, it really doesn't matter to me."
Luke's jaw tightened and his eyes turned icy.
"I… second that," wheezed Dunn, his lips spilling over with blood.
Luke looked down for a moment, then back at Kip. He smirked slightly and then suddenly Dunn flew forward in his chair, thrown by the invisible grip on his neck. His head smashed into the cold, metal table top, leaving a blood-spattered dent, and then rebounded. Dunn fell to the floor, lifeless.
Kip shrieked in shock, pushing himself up and out of his chair and back towards the wall. Luke hadn't thought it possible, but the man's face paled even further.
Luke was on his feet in seconds, whipping his vibroblade out of its sheath and pushing Kip hard against the wall. He closed one hand around Kip's neck and pressed the vibroblade close to his throat with the other.
"The Alliance will fall because of you," Luke hissed. "I hope you're proud of your actions."
And before the Rebel could even start a reply, Luke sliced his throat with the vibroblade. Blood poured out of the wound in an instant, and Kip let out a choking cough. Red liquid spilled over his lips as he gasped for air, but Luke did not recoil. The blood fell quickly over his hand, painting it red and making it tingle with warmth. All of the other deaths he had caused were hardly as exhilarating as this one. This one was close, personal, done with his own hands rather than with the Force and, unlike the incident with the Rebel spy, he actually had complete control over his actions.
Only once Kip had finally stopped struggling and all of the life was drained from his body did Luke let go and take a step back. He was not repulsed by the sight of the dead bodies, like he had been earlier, and it showed through the stillness of his hands. If he had been falling these past few weeks, then he had just hit the ground. Luke turned around and walked towards the door.
His day had started with blood and it had ended with it. But there was still one more thing he had to do.
.
.
.
The large, grey doors slid open and Vader turned around to silently regard his visitor.
Luke stepped into the room. His left hand was covered in blood, as were his clothes, and his expression was dark.
"I was wrong not to trust you," Luke said. "I was wrong to believe that my place lies anywhere but here. I have information for you regarding Project Cataclysm."
Vader stepped forward slightly, interested to hear what Luke had to say. He had felt what had gone on in the room across from the cell bay, but it had been limited by Luke's shielding. He could only imagine the full extent of the interrogation. His son was powerful. Very powerful. And he was young. The corruption of the Dark Side had taken over him quickly. Luke had tried valiantly to resist, but ultimately the darkness had won. Vader had known it would happen ever since he had found that tendril of darkness within his son during the torture sessions. He was, however, surprised at how quickly it had occurred. Especially, since Luke had been so close to returning to the Light just over an hour ago. Vader smiled darkly behind his mask. His plan was working.
"It is, as you suspected, a superweapon, capable of bringing down a Star Destroyer. Perhaps, even the Death Star," Luke said. "There are ten bases where the operation codes of this weapon are being kept hidden, although I cannot be certain that this is indeed the truth for the Alliance has ways of keeping its secrets well protected. Nevertheless, I recommend we go after these codes and destroy the bases."
"I agree," Vader rumbled. "We cannot risk the Rebels using this weapon against us."
Luke stared at Vader for a moment, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
"I pledge myself to your teachings, father," he said. "I pledge my loyalty and my life to you, if you will accept it."
"I accept," Vader responded, and it was all he could do to contain the excitement rising within him. It was one thing to turn Luke to the Dark Side, it was something else to have Luke pledge himself to him and to the ways of the Sith. "I believe I taught you the Sith Code, did I not?"
"Yes, father," Luke responded, keeping his head bowed. Then, he began reciting. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken."
Luke took a deep breath, then finished, "The Force shall free me."
Vader smiled a victorious smile behind his mask.
"Rise, my apprentice."