Empire's Son II

by blank101

COMPLETE! Sequel to Empire's Son. As Palpatine's Empire crumbles, Luke retreats to a grim self-imposed anonymity in the galaxy's Rim planets. But he cannot outrun his past, and Imperials and Rebels alike are searching for the last Sith, their motives very different.

14. Chapter 14

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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Stood to the front of the Steadfast's bridge, Luke watched in silence as she held her position to the flank of her flagship, her angle and distance calculated with military precision to hold her a fraction clear of the disruptive wash of its multiple engines as they throttled to full power. It was a rare thing, to see the massive bulk of a Star Destroyer dwarfed by any other superstructure, but even the Steadfast was rendered mediocre by the bristling hulk of the Executor, over one hundred times her mass and firepower.

The immense dreadnought's sublight engines had been slowly firing up for almost an hour after days of tests and trials, and now rippled in a haze of distortion as they edged the colossal ship forward under her own power, maneuvering with the aid of multiple tugs. Her vast scale made every move seem ponderous as she angled away, the final heave tilting her a fraction— Then her construction moorings burst free with brief rushes of crystallizing air, fragmenting as they were jettisoned, their task complete.

For the first time the imposing, unassailable tonnage of a Super-class Star Destroyer powered ponderously free of Fondor Shipyards in a slow-motion ballet of brute power.

Just beyond the shipyard's limit a fleet of seven Star Destroyers and five frigates waited patiently to accompany it on what was to be both its inaugural voyage and its first battle—though if it did its job and intimidated sufficiently, the battle would be with words alone. If not…well then, it would be not only the first Super Star Destroyer to enter service, but would also have the rare distinction of both engaging in battle on its inaugural flight, and of having its first shots in that battle aimed towards another Imperial ship.

So they'd better be damn sure that everything was online by the time they reached the Moddell system, Luke knew, because Palpatine wouldn't hold back if Kessler refused him.

As it cleared the shipyards every other Star Destroyer in the vicinity began a slow roll, rotating on its axis to correct its horizon-orientation in relation to the hulking Super Star Destroyer as tradition dictated, in confirmation of its rank as the pre-eminent vessel present.

The launch should have been the event of the decade, the ultimate affirmation of Imperial superiority after the Death Star's catastrophic loss…instead, it was a comment on the sorry state of his Master's Empire that barely a handful of ships were present to bear witnesses to this incredible sight. And the number of people who were truly aware of what they were seeing in their deference to the Executor as the Imperial fleet's flagship, could be counted in single figures.

He empathized completely with the massive dreadnaught's fate; the uniquely capable relic of a fading regime, created and shaped for the purpose of combat and nothing else, fated to be thrown into battle after battle to serve another's cause. It fired a driving desire to abandon his own destroyer's bridge in search of Mara, to drag her back to the tiny maintenance hatch in which they'd made their vows and tell her all this…try to make her understand. But she was onboard the Executor with Palpatine, no doubt inspired anew by the grandeur of the moment.

Luke was due to return there himself at their first drop from lightspeed less than four hours out, relinquishing control of the Steadfast to his first officer. Starship captains were ten-a-credit. Outside of actual combat, Palpatine still needed to keep those few people he trusted close to hand. Though right now even that didn't bother Luke, because it meant that he'd be back with Mara.

With Mara.

He felt his jaw tense as his eyes skipped across the imposing military flotilla without seeing, still trying to fathom the significance of his actions last night—the consequence.

Had he taken the only possible path that could keep him sane, right now…or had he made the mistake of his life—and damned them both, in doing so? Because still, within every kiss he felt that shiver of dark portent.

Yet to be together last night… The memory pulsed through him, twitching a brief smile to his lips. Maybe she was right, maybe knowing Palpatine's rules, and having lived their lives by them, they could somehow fit some kind of life together in between them.

They could do that, couldn't they?

He let out a brief, quiet breath, hearing the desperation in his rationalization. He'd been trained his whole life to analyze every problem from every perceivable angle. To identify and evaluate the risks and the pitfalls, to strategize the best course to a successful conclusion…so then why was he so willfully blind, in this? Because that was what he was being. He knew that.

Han's warnings from long ago filtered to the surface; 'All or nothing'. That had been Han's constant rebuke; 'Think about what you do before you do it, because you overreact. You're all or nothing'. It was how Luke was, he'd said—what he'd had to become, to survive. To stay sane. It was, Han had always claimed, the thing which had kept Luke with Palpatine for so long, despite everything. Was it that which kept him here, still?

Was it defining his actions now, with Mara?

All or nothing. Somewhere in the back of Luke's mind, the boy who had been raised in his Master's shadow still believed that Palpatine must, by definition, be right when he claimed that there could be no compromises—that a division of attention amounted to a division of loyalty, and that was intolerable. His faith in his Master was a fraction of its previous depth, yet his loyalty remained. Surely being with Mara was a good thing, Mara's steadfast allegiance reviving and reinforcing his own.

Validations. At least he wasn't so far gone as to fail to see them, when he spouted them.

Was that what drew him to her? That strength. That resolute, unwavering clarity of purpose? His own desire to feel it again. To have something in his life in which he believed, to the very core of his being?

…Or was it the secret wish to pull her free, and open her eyes to the truth?

All or nothing.

The low tone of a lightspeed calculation dragged him from his reverie as it sounded across the bridge, followed by the regulated pip of a synchronized fleet-wide countdown; the Empire was nothing if not efficient.

"Sir, do we have confirmation to proceed?"

"You have confirmation," Luke said quietly; the correct reply. He knew them all—had been raised from the age of seven to recite them, word-perfect…even the ones that were empty lipservice.

A second later realspace jolted briefly, then curled in upon itself into a swirling tunnel of drawn-out light as each Star Destroyer accelerated in regimented sync. Staring into the maelstrom Luke pondered again on Shira's prediction, given with blithe indifference yet total certainty, that he and Mara were too different to possibly hold together. Remembered with uneasy clarity that resonant rush of portent that pulsed within the Force with every kiss.

Were they doomed to failure? Was there something bigger which kept pace, even now—something he'd always carried within him? Some echo of dark fate that a child of seven had unknowingly set in motion when he'd first been brought to Coruscant and, with insufficient words to categorize, had seen only shadows and tangles closing in.

Shadows and tangles… amid the vortex of light which surrounded the ship, he saw them still.

Was it fate…or simply his own doubts?

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Leia settled into the chair beside Han, in the conference room on the Command Level of Home One. Painted in pale blue and aqua it was restful despite its size and purpose, though not a single face at the table looked mollified. There were fifteen in all, from Mon Mothma and Crix Madine, through the levels of Intel and Defense, Security, Strategy, Fleet Logistics—even a few who held no specific rank or office—who between them comprised the High Command Security Council and its advisors.

To the center of the large circular table a hologram floated above eye level, drawing Leia's gaze. The same systems, again; same troubles, more than likely. She shouldn't be surprised. She'd been uneasy for weeks now, aware of an aberrant tremor of volatility within the Force which defied any attempt to lock it down, a constant, inexorable sensation. Part of her wondered if it was her brother—certainly there had been questions asked, when she'd explained that in her own experience this type of shadow-flux originated in Darkness, which was what made it all the harder to lock down. No-one save Mon Mothma and Han knew her connection to Luke, of course, though everyone around this table was high enough placed to know that a Sith had survived Corsin. And knowing, their suspicion had naturally turned to him.

Yet Leia had…at the very least, withheld information. Something she'd never done in her entire life, before. Important information.

Because she hadn't told them about her brother's presence at Rhen Var; hadn't told them that he had been onboard the Imperial Star Destroyer that had opened fire on the Kathol's Pride.

She didn't know why—and yet at the same time, she knew exactly why.

A Sith, on the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Given his heritage, the logical assumption would be that he had returned to the Empire that had raised and trained him, despite Han's adamant claims that Luke Antilles had no particular loyalty to the Empire itself, and no interest in self-serving ascendancy.

But it would have been a hard one to argue, given his past, had she admitted to Luke's presence onboard that Destroyer. Every rational, impartial mind at this table would come to the same logical conclusion: Siths and power-mongering went hand in glove. That was his heritage.

Only it wasn't—not to Leia. To her, he was simply her brother. Perhaps…perhaps not simply that. But he was her brother. And he had stopped the attack. Hardly the innate aggression of a true Sith.

And yet… Still, that tremor in the Force remained, a constant, unremitting shiver in the dark of every shadow, which folded intangibly in on itself with practiced ease…

A movement from Han to her right caught Leia's eye, as he nodded briefly at the equally tired-eyed Crix Madine, on the opposite side of the table. Both ex-Imperial defectors, they had the wary kinship of a shared past, tempered by a reluctance to make that seem too relevant to their present lives. But like Madine, Han's seat at this table was a testimony to his value here. His wide knowledge of fleet actions and procedures at a day-to-day operations level, combined with the hidden and inscrutable world inside the highest echelons of the Imperial palace, had earned him his place.

And they needed him—they needed both of them, if this latest rush of Intel over the last month was to be unraveled. They had not so much unearthed as been overwhelmed by the influx of incoming data of late, as something unprecedented ran like wildfire throughout the Imperial fleet. Ex-Imperials such as Madine and Han were taking a lot of the heat in terms of expectations that they'd be able to string all this Intel and their own past experiences together, and come up with a feasible response.

There were daily reports of altered shipping routes, with Star Destroyers missing their standard rotations to turn up in entirely different sectors. Reports of an unknown and growing fleet which dropped in and out of hyperspace as it navigated within the vast Imperial-held Colony regions, its numbers increasing with every sighting.

Far more dangerously, reports were beginning to surface of the flagship which led it…and it was this which had prompted today's somber meeting, as Mon Mothma stood to bring them to order.

Reaching forward, she pressed the control panel before her…and the image of Fondor's long-dormant Super Star Destroyer—the threat that they'd tried twice to eradicate before it had even been launched—loomed large over the assembled room, hushing them to silence.

"The Super Star Destroyer Executor, the largest Dreadnaught ever constructed," Mon said gravely. "It stands twelve times the length of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, with a combined battery of over five thousand turbolasers and ion cannons, and two hundred-fifty concussion missile arrays. Fully stocked, it carries twelve squadrons of fighters, two hundred specialist combat and support ships, three prefabricated front-line garrison bases and over five thousand dedicated combat vehicles. Fully manned, it is capable of carrying around eighty-eight thousand crew and troops, and six years of consumables. It is a mobile fortress of immense power capable of appearing anywhere, designed specifically to turn the tide of any battle."

She always launched into the crux of the problem, Leia knew. Han said her opening addresses were like the first punch in a barfight.

Mon had paused to let this sink in, and now that she had everyone's rapt attention, she turned the floor over to Commander Cracken, head of Intel. "Commander?"

Cracken stood, sporting the same tired and wired expression as everyone else there. In his mid forties, he had a gentle, almost benign face—that of a kindly uncle or long-suffering father. In fact he had one of the most coolly analytical minds Leia had ever met, razor sharp and systematic in every facet. That he had known both Republic and Imperial rule, and chosen to dedicate two decades of his life to reinstate the former, was one of the most cogent arguments Leia could imagine.

"The Executor has always been reliably identified as remaining dormant at Fondor since the fragmentation of the Empire. This was due to the expiry of the date-sensitive command codes in operation before the Emperor's death, which were only ever designed to bring its systems to test status." His finger slid across his datapad to change the massive central hologram to a more distant image of the Executor, still against Fondor shipyards, but with banks of running lights picking out its surface detail.

"What you're looking at now however, are images from five days ago. Keep watching…and you can clearly see that Executor is moving under its own power. It's making visible course changes with no tugs present. This is not its sister-ship, which remains inactive, moored at the Kuat Drive Yards. And to our knowledge, it's not a hoax. Despite all previous Intel to the contrary, we must change the Executor's status from 'unlikely to launch', to 'fully active'. This thing is operational." He paused, expression stony. "We also have multiple confirmations that both Fondor and Kuat have been withdrawing standard Imperial-class Star Destroyers from their customary routes during the same time period. All their standard rotations and operations have undergone markable changes."

Han moved, uneasy. "Withdrawn to where?"

"Back to the Fondor System itself, to constitute part of the new fleet which you can see forming in the last image here, we believe. This is it—this is the Ghost Fleet."

It had gained its name early on, when Intel had been struggling to keep up with multiple sightings without a single concrete fact. Leia glanced to Han, uneasy. He tilted his head a fraction, lips pursing just slightly, the message clear: Not yet.

He was the only one who knew the truth about Rhen Var, and after a long discussion they'd agreed to keep the facts quiet until they had more information. Han's faith in her brother was unwavering, despite everything; Luke wasn't an Imperial. He couldn't name a single thing that would have lured her brother back, or held him once he was there.

And her sense of Luke at Rhen Var had been a split-second, he'd argued—a brief flash of awareness, under pressure, with all hells breaking loose around them. What if it wasn't the obvious—what is she was mistaken?

She wanted—she wanted to believe that…

They needed more facts—and to do that, they needed to track Luke's actions. They needed to get to him. But it seemed like the entire galaxy was conspiring to put obstacles in their way…and Leia wasn't entirely sure that at least half of them weren't her brother's doing.

But that little spark within held her quiet; held faith, even as Cracken recited the blows.

"Fondor military docks are always locked down to any civilian traffic, and we know that they still have the fully linked eight-shield stealth array which originally protected the Executor from prying eyes during its early construction. That's been cited as inactive for well over a year. But in the past month leading up to the Executor's sighting, Fondor has become a fortress." Again Cracken paused, to let people draw their own inevitable conclusions as to what Ghost Fleet was centering around. "We do have agents inside however, and though Intel coming out is patchy, we have eye-witness reports that the fleet is now fourteen Destroyers strong, with around the same number of smaller frigates and carriers. We also believe that the linked stealth shield array may be powered up. We have no reliable intel on that, however. Just general power consumption figures."

Leia straightened to say what was on everybody's mind, though no-one had wanted to voice it. "Is this in-fighting, or a hostile fleet—are they preparing for a major offensive against the Alliance?"

"We're working on that," Cracken said tiredly. "At this time all we can confirm is that there have been multiple sightings of a major fleet moving within the Colony regions between Fondor and Kuat. Given the ship registrations involved, we can be pretty sure that the Kuat and Fondor sectors, and their spacedocks and construction facilities, have negotiated some kind of alliance. That's the spark here, and it would, simply on strength and numbers, put them as the third largest coalition in Imperial space. If we factor in the existence of an operational Super Star Destroyer, it may well bring them out on top. This is a major event, on any terms. This is a game-changer."

"Why now," Madine asked. "Moff Sekati and Moff Kiyoma have never shown any desire to co-operate previously—why now?"

"We don't know," Cracken admitted, keying the holo to change from that disturbing image of the Executor dwarfing the Star Destroyers about it, to a galaxy map with hyperspace lanes highlighted. "This is very sudden, with no forewarning, no intel on advance talks, nothing."

For a moment Leia felt a pang of hope that the cause of all these changes was elsewhere, in other's hands, but Cracken's next words unknowingly leached at least some of that hope away.

"What we do know is that if the show is being run by either Moff Sekati or Moff Kiyoma, then it's remotely—both have been positively identified in their own territories at the same time as the Ghost Fleet was seen congregating around the Yag'Dhul node of the Corellian Trade Spine hyperspace route…that's its last confirmed position. We also know the fleet is no longer there. Given that Fondor lies Coreward of Yag'Dhul, this means that they've likely traveled further out Rimward, taking them through four separate Imperial strongholds, from Moff Ferrin, through Moff Ecke and Moff Kato's, and eventually into Moff Kessler's territory."

"Is there a chance that any of those Moffs would prove receptive?" Mon asked.

"We have dedicated units on it, now. From first glance my people say Moffs Ecke and Kato are outside possibilities under pressure, but then if you'd asked a month ago, I wouldn't have put a single credit on Moff Sekati and Moff Kiyoma ever forming an affiliation."

"I guess there's nothing like a Super Star Destroyer turning up in orbit around your key planet to make you weigh up the pro's and con's of a situation," Han drawled grimly. "What about Moff Kessler?"

"Last turn-wise Imperial territory in the outer Rim systems," Cracken shrugged, glancing to General Koehler.

Koehler nodded, taking the cue. "We've chipped away at Kessler's borders for a while, but with little to gain in comparison to the commitment of troops and ships, efforts have moved to the more central Mid-Rim territories. He has an adequate fleet, but it's covering a huge area which spans all the way out into the Wild Regions, with a lot of uncharted systems and very little development."

"He has a few known affiliations in place, from neighboring Imperial territories such as Moff Kato," Cracken picked up again. "Nothing of note. He is, however, well documented as ambitious and aggressive, which was how he ended up getting posted to the Rim systems in the first place. I doubt very much that he would collaborate or capitulate with any outside body, and given the span of his territory, it would be as difficult for Imperial forces to mount an aggressive take over as it was for our own forces. But if Ghost Fleet did get a foothold there, then we may find ourselves in a difficult position, tactically."

"We have no indication as yet that the fleet is hostile." The words weren't a naïve hope on Admiral Ackbar's part, Leia knew. They were simply a testing of the facts.

"It's a fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers headed up by a Super Star Destroyer named the Executor," Han reminded. "Even if they're ignoring us right now in favor of easier pickings, that won't last."

Leia stared at the huge holo, understanding Han's concern. "If this fleet either allies with or absorbs Moff Kessler's territory, they're on our borders."

"If it also absorbs Moff Kato's territories, then they hold borders to a good section of two contiguous sides of us," Cracken said grimly. "The words 'pincer movement' come undeniably to mind."

The room fell to considered silence, until Mon Mothma lifted her head, eyes on the bigger picture. "Could we be looking at the first stages of a re-unification of the Empire, here?"

Cracken sighed, eyes taking on a hunted look as he fell back on the same response. "We're working on that. At present we've seen no reaction to any of this from Coruscant and the Core sectors, assuming they also have access to the intel. But the Core systems are in a strong position, and have little need to form alliances. Though I would caution that information's changing rapidly at the moment, and getting new agents into useful positions within the Core is nigh-on impossible. All we can reliably say is that we had no indication prior to this that any treaty was even close to being on the cards between Fondor and Kuat, let alone others. Nothing. This sudden unification of several high-profile Moffs is unprecedented, and I get the feeling that we're looking at the start of a campaign, not the culmination of one." He fell to silence for long seconds, his apprehension palpable. "With the caveat that has stood for the last year—that there's no readily identifiable stand-out commandant at this time—I'm sorry to have to agree that it's possible… At this point, a re-unification is actually a valid and very dangerous possibility."

"Perhaps we should prepare a precautionary task force to the edge of Alliance-held territory which borders with Grand Moff Kessler," Mon said, glancing to General Madine, who nodded as she continued. "The Halcyon and the Kathol's Pride however, should be committed to trying to track down our elusive Ghost Fleet."

Leia straightened, aware that if the Pride was being committed to this operation, then so was she. "The Pride is still in dock for repairs, after the Rhen Var attack. We'd intended to take her on shakedown ops in the Thanium sector following that, towards the Rishi System."

Mon paused to meet Leia's eye, knowing that Rishi had been Luke's last confirmed location. "This is in connection with the disturbance you've sensed?"

Leia glanced down. "An attempt to rule out certain possibilities, yes."

Mon's eyebrow arched. "You have new information?"

"…No," Leia said, torn between the Alliance's needs and her growing desire to track down her brother. "It's simply an attempt to pick up old threads, whilst the Pride is in repair docks close to Rishi. It's…something I need to do."

Mon stared for long seconds, then nodded. "You have two days after the Pride has been repaired, Jedi Skywalker. Then we have greater need of you." Her benevolent gaze took on a hard edge. "I very much hope for all our sakes that the disturbances you sense and the Ghost Fleet are not connected."

Leia glanced down, biting at her lip, well aware that the odds were against it.

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Mara transferred over to the Steadfast half a day out from the pre-agreed rendezvous with Moff Kessler, the meeting located in what he assumed to be the safe territory of his own Moddell sector, well into the interior of the systems he held. As per the plan only the ISD Steadfast had made the initial journey in. under Luke's command. The rest of Palpatine's fleet held back so that their arrival en-masse would carry the impact necessary to ensure that Moff Kessler could be cleanly extracted from his own fleet with minimum opposition from both himself and his officers.

There had been a flurry of planning onboard the Steadfast's bridge before they had taken their leave of the main fleet, coordinating lightspeed entry and exit times, precise co-ordinate transmissions to be broadcast from their shuttle, back-up extraction points, comm codes and frequencies… Now, as she and Luke finally sat alone in the crew compartment of a Lambda shuttle on its way over to Kessler's Star Destroyer, it occurred to Mara that this was the first time that she had stolen a brief block of time truly alone with…what did she call him now? She had no idea if their marriage was even vaguely legal, but she did know that the commitment had been made in good faith, on both sides. She studied Luke where he sat to one side of the Lambda shuttle's otherwise empty crew compartment, eyes on the datapad he'd brought onboard.

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing."

Mara arched her eyebrows. "Well then why are you staring at the screen?"

He gave her that one without argument, his thoughts elsewhere. "Still trying to crunch the numbers on getting the necessary resources as quickly as possible from Kuat and Fondor for the Death Star. Half the galaxy must be putting effort into tracking down Palpatine's fleet by now. I don't like us just sitting still in the Moddell sector until we can get the Death Star mobile."

"You don't know how much work Kessler has put into it in the last year, yet. It may be closer to completion than you think."

"Yeah, blind hope's always a good policy to base your plans on," he said absently. "Especially when you have to report them to Palpatine."

"You shouldn't have that kind of information on a shuttle when we're landing in Kessler's Star Destroyer."

"I'll void it before we land." His attention remained on the screen.

"Do it now."

He didn't look up, voice distant. "I'll do it before we land."

Mara stared for a second. "You know, for someone who can read minds, you don't seem to be picking up on the vibes I'm sending out here."

His glanced once, briefly, then looked back to the screen and voided the data. Abandoning it, he rose to walked close without hesitation, bending to a crouch before her where she sat, his head tilted up, dark brown eyes unguarded. "You have my undivided attention," he smiled.

It was utterly strange that he had this within him, this capacity for warmth and spontaneity; for compassion. Passion, yes; despite his myriad defenses, he seemed to Mara forever raw, painfully vulnerable, as if a single word could slay him—as if his own wildly conflicting emotions might do the same at any moment. But all that antagonism and boiling frustration held protected at their core a spark of something else entirely. Something gentle and benign for her alone, all the more tantalizing for its brief flickers.

A smile crept across her lips—how could it not? "…Now I don't know what to say."

"Say this,"

He leaned up slightly, hand reaching to caress the back of her neck as he brought her head down to his, their lips meeting in a flush of desire which fired every nerve with a warm glow. Without thinking she reached out as he rose slightly from his crouch to kneel upright, level with her now, the kiss deepening, carrying every thought along with it. Her legs wrapped about him as he leaned in, pulling him closer, captured for her alone. Long seconds held them lost, protected in this cocoon of their own making… and then it bled through like ink in water, that infusion of darkness which tainted every kiss. His head twitched briefly and he pulled back—gently, without making it obvious…but she knew.

She wouldn't be undone by it. Wouldn't lose this closeness to the brief burn which scalded every kiss. Instead she moved with him to maintain body contact, her lips barely touching his, the craving to push for more a battle of desire over will as they breathed in synch.

"Wow, I'm a good conversationalist," she murmured.

He grinned. "Maybe I'm a good listener."

"You have your moments," she conceded. It would break this one, she knew that, but; "Luke…do you know what it is?"

He dropped instantly back onto his heels, looking away. "It's nothing. Ignore it."

"How can I, when you can't?"

"I can. I do."

He leaned up again, looking to prove it, but Mara rocked back.

"I don't want you to have to."

Luke sighed and rose, slipping free as she reached for him. "Well then what do you want? I can't make it go away, I can't stop what's…" He let out a breath, to expel his rising frustration. "It's not you, it's not your fault. It's me."

"How do you know that?"

A brief, ironic smile twitched his lip. "Most things generally are."

"So you don't know."

"It's me," he said with bleak finality, eyes distant. "It's…the future, the past. It's shadows and tangles."

"It's what?"

He seemed momentarily unsettled by his own words, then snapped back to moment, shaking his head rapidly. "Nothing. It's nothing. We need…we need to concentrate on what we're doing, here. We have a mission."

Mara held silent for long seconds, attempting to unpick all that he'd said…but he was right; now wasn't the time. With Moff Kessler's flagship the Kreiger looming ever closer through the viewports, they needed to get their heads in the mission.

She wasn't particularly nervous at arriving as the advance party, traveling over from the Steadfast with only Luke and a pilot, as Kessler would have expected on completion of the mission he had funded. She was concerned, however, about just exactly how far Luke would choose to react should Kessler begin to push his buttons, as he had in the past.

She hadn't missed the fact that, when her arms had wrapped around him in that brief intimate kiss, they had brushed at the cool hard metal of a lightsaber hilt, worn in a horizontal snap-carrier threaded onto the standard-issue military belt at the small of his back. She knew that Palpatine had returned Luke's lightsaber before they'd even reached Fondor—he'd specifically asked her for it. What was interesting was that today was the first time that Luke had worn it.

Given the situation, to anticipate trouble was appropriate… The question was, was he actually looking to instigate it?

With that in mind, her next words were diplomatic.

"So…do we need to go over the plan again?"

"We go in, we extract Kessler, we transfer him over to Palpatine within the commontion of the Executor's arrival, nullifying the need for a ship-to-ship firefight," Luke said flatly. "We save ships, we save face…he loses it."

"Alive," Mara emphasized. "The order was to extract Kessler alive."

Her worry wasn't that with his concentration elsewhere because of Kessler's provocation, Luke might miss the mental cue of Palpatine's incoming flagship that only he could sense. It was more that by the time Palpatine and the fleet arrived, Moff Kessler may already be history.

"Whatever." His vague reply did nothing to reassure her, his eyes remaining on the looming hulk of Moff Kessler's Star Destroyer as they neared the main landing bay entrance at its belly.

Mara continued to stare in expectant silence, knowing he'd sense it…

Eventually he turned. "Oh come on, give me this one. No-one said he couldn't be a little shaken by the time he boarded the Executor. No-one even specified just how exactly we got him there."

"I think the general inference was, in one piece."

"Well then someone should have said so."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'd assume the Emperor's expectation was that, as an Sith capable of mind reading, you would know that. But just in case, I'm saying it now."

His brow raised gamely. "Oh, so now all of a sudden you can tell me what to do?"

"That's not what I'm saying…but yes." She arched her eyebrows in mock-challenge, and he loosed a brief, rare smile. The corners of Mara's lips curled unstoppably in response, then she pressed on. "I'm just saying it'll pay to be reasonably respectful, because Moff Kessler might yet defer to Palpatine's authority. He might not be ousted from command."

His brief smile turned into a dry grin. "You think for one minute that Kessler might actually survive this? I know Palpatine, I know how his mind works. Kessler's history."

"Moff Sekati and Kiyoma still hold their commands."

"Because they were the first two. He needed allies when he approached them. He had no fleet, no power base, no assets—nothing. Plus he needed control without revealing his return to the galaxy at large. Now everyone's looking at Sekati and Kiyomi and trying to figure out what's going on, based on their being the only two ego's in play. They're making erroneous Intel extrapolations which lead to erroneous conclusions, because they have incorrect data to begin with. He needed a front, and Sekati and Kiyoma were high enough up the power ladder to be plausible, and loyal and smart enough to do exactly what he says."

Mara frowned. "Maybe he just needed some reliable commanders."

"He doesn't work like that. He doesn't think like that. Everything serves a greater goal by its omission or inclusion. They survived because he knew he needed a front, and he needed Moffs who specialize in organizing large-scale construction facilities, to finish the second Death Star. He needed resources and materials that Kessler clearly doesn't have, otherwise it would be finished already. They had value. They filled a specific need…but it's filled now. Which makes Kessler surplus to requirements."

"Kessler's held his territory and he's continued to advance the construction of the Death Star, all be it slowly."

"Palpatine already has two Moffs with the assets and the know-how to complete it to a tighter schedule. Kessler has nothing to offer save his power—and Palpatine can't hold that whilst Kessler's still around."

"He needs someone to maintain Imperial rule in this system—someone with a proven track record."

"Not Kessler. He's too volatile—that's how he ended up out in the Rim systems to begin with. He has a history of self-serving conceit. He's made no move since Corsin to hold the Empire together, he's simply cemented his own power and territories. Before, when Palpatine had the luxury of an Empire, Kessler could be tolerated because despite his ego he's actually a capable Moff. Now he's a liability, an asset to be stripped. The same traits that put him out here in the first place have continued to isolate him post-Corsin because he's made few real allies, meaning that no-one is likely to react if he's removed. His only use to Palpatine at this precise moment is to serve as an example. Proof for those who actually know the truth of his return, that Palpatine's still a force to be reckoned with if they try to undermine him—even within his own Moffs. And again, he can't do that by letting Kessler walk out of that meeting in one piece."

"Wait, you think… no, he may strip Kessler of command, but that's it. He won't kill him for no reason."

The shuttle flooded with light as it entered the Kreiger's main landing bay, the turbulence of systems adjusting to a pressurized atmosphere jostling them both where they stood.

"No, he won't." Luke glanced to the hangar floor as the small shuttle rotated to land, huge wings lifting with a whine of oiled hydraulics, attention on the contingent of six stormtroopers and two officers waiting outside as he spoke. "But he has a reason. He has several. I just told them to you."

.

.

.

Kessler sat at his desk in his expansive office to the rear of the Kreiger's bridge, with his second in command and one other officer to the side of the room, as well as two stormtroopers to either side of the door; he wanted an audience for this, it seemed.

Mara abruptly remembered Kessler's demand, in exchange for the use of the Steadfast; that on Luke's return he stood before Kessler's desk to either hand over the complete command codes, or acknowledge that he had failed in his duties, and accept the consequences. Clearly, given the Steadfast's comm silence at Palpatine's command, Kessler had assumed the latter and decided that he'd get more enjoyment out of this meeting if he had an audience to witness it.

Mara glanced briefly to Luke, who took in the assembled audience but didn't object; knowing him, he was likely figuring the same as Kessler, though for entirely different reasons. Stopping before the desk he stood to smart attention, hands clasped military-style behind his back, though he made no salute.

"Commander Antilles," Kessler acknowledged with a wide grin. "How good of you to grace us with your presence…and in uniform, too. A rarity, if I'm not mistaken."

"I haven't had occasion to wear it in a while, Sir. But the situation has changed of late, and I expect to wear it a great deal in future."

"Indeed. I understand that Captain Beyer is…unavailable. As is Commander Tatton."

"You understand a great deal, considering that we were operating under a comm blackout."

"You were operating onboard my vessel, Commander Antilles. You moved against my officers. Are you aware of the sentence for mutiny?"

"Mutiny assumes that all parties are operating under the same command, Moff Kessler. I thought I'd made it clear that at no time was I under yours."

Mara's eyes twitched to the officers, making a brief, subtle check; if they were wearing firearms then they were concealed, which would slow their reaction times.

"Technicalities," Kessler dismissed with confidence. "In fact, the sentence is the same for mutiny and piracy."

"Perhaps the word you're searching for is commandeer."

He was playing for time, Mara knew. Waiting for the optimum moment…

"You assume too much, if you think that even a full set of command codes would earn you a Captaincy in my fleet, Commander. Promotion here is by my sanction, and that alone. You do not earn a commission by stepping unlawfully into dead men's shoes. Particularly when you're the one who killed them."

"I have no desire to serve in your fleet, Moff Kessler."

"Then it was you who killed them?"

Tension was tightening Mara's stomach; timing was everything. They were here alone, with no backup, and aside from the necessity of playing for time, Luke was doing the equivalent of prodding a Krayt Dragon with a short stick for his own amusement. She clamped her jaw against the desire to tell him that in no uncertain terms.

"And yet you came back here," Kessler continued with a predatory smile. "I hope for your sake that you gained the command codes for me."

"I did not, Sir."

Kessler nodded, trying not to look too pleased. "And you remember our deal?"

"You misunderstand, Sir. I did not gain them—I always had them. I'm simply stating my continued intention to withhold them."

The amusement slowly melted from Moff Kessler's face. "You already had the command codes which would have activated the Death Star?"

"You think the Emperor wouldn't trust me with such a thing? I hold greater secrets than that, by far."

She didn't sense the fleet's emergence from hyperspace, but familiar with every nuance of Luke's responses by now, she picked up on his muted reaction as he spoke those last few words. Saw the brief twitch in his stance which Moff Kessler clearly hadn't.

"And why exactly did you withhold them?" Kessler's temper was rising now, revealed in the snap of his curtailed words, and Mara saw exactly how this conversation was going to go. It was Luke's turn to smile.

"As I said to you when we first spoke, I chose my time to reappear with great care, Sir. Only it wasn't for your benefit, I'm afraid."

"You used it to your own ends," Kessler growled.

Mara glanced to the comlink on Kessler's desk as it pipped for attention. Luke purposely spoke over it, so that in the heat of the moment it was ignored.

"My own ends? No, Sir. Though as I said to you before, I don't serve your military and I certainly don't serve you."

Mara tensed for action, letting out a slow breath. This was surely as long as Luke could drag it out.

Kessler rose to his feet, outraged. "You have the gall to come in here and speak like that to my face?! You're nothing—no-one! You're a dead man walking."

The insistent pip of the comlink racked up the tension as the game that had been played to date took a dangerous turn. With nothing more than a tilt of his head, Luke moved from composed to threatening. "I would advise you to think very carefully about what you say, Moff Kessler. I'm here as an official representative of—"

"Official! You said yourself you have no military affiliations. Now there's a sudden change of heart? You think you can simply—"

Both Kessler and Luke continued speaking over each other without pause, neither raising their voices, but neither backing down or allowing themselves to be interrupted, each aware of the power-play that was so blatantly in use by the other.

"—acknowledge that a Star Destroyer was necessary to complete the mission," Luke continued. "Your personal intervention was not. We required your ship, Moff Kessler, not your aid."

Mara stared, barely able to make out what either said now, both voices curt and strong, though neither deigned to raise to the shout which would indicate that they had let their emotions get the better of them.

Kessler leaned forward. "You have no jurisdiction here that—"

"…But now that events are ready to move forward, I'm informed that we require your co-operation." Luke barely paused, as if in consideration of his own words. "Forgive me; your obedience."

The intentional provocation twitched Kessler straight in outrage. "In whose name—yours? The man who disappeared for nine months, and had to be forced back into the uniform that I don't believe he deserved in the first—"

An officer rushed into the ready-room without even knocking, his eyes wide. Kessler turned on him. "How dare you barge—"

"Sir, a fleet of Star Destroyers have just emerged from lightspeed off our bow. Sir, they're led by the Executor!"

Kessler stared at the ensign, and in the moment of shocked silence Luke replied to his last question as if the interruption had not taken place, level voice shot through with an iron core. "In whose name? I serve the same man I've always served; Emperor Palpatine."

The moment hung taut, Luke composed and still as Kessler's eyes searched his, trying to unravel his meaning without success…how could he?

Eventually Luke's chin rose a fraction. "The Emperor—yours as well as mine—is very much alive and well, Moff Kessler. And he is currently onboard the Executor, awaiting your presence. I'm commanded to take you there immediately."

The tense tableau of stunned uncertainty held as Kessler stared, eyes wide, and Luke remained at loose attention, shoulders lax, hands still clasped behind his back. Nobody moved, everyone waiting for someone else to break the moment and take the lead.

It was Kessler who straightened of course, pushing for control, even now.

"This is ridiculous! I won't play whatever games you think you can instigate here." He gestured to the stormtroopers to either side of the door as he spoke, and both moved their rifles to more useable positions as they set forward—

Mara was fast—she knew that. But she'd barely begun to turn, eyes on the officers, palm brushing the butt of the blaster at her hip, when a bright flare of amber-red hummed past her at head-height, close enough that she felt the interference of the energy field lifting her hair with its passage. The bass thrum of the lightsaber changed pitch as it swung, the field altering to allow for resistance—and behind her, she heard the clatter of armor weighed down by heavy limbs as the stormtrooper to the right of the door collapsed down. By the time she'd completed her turn, blaster leveled and tracking, the trooper's body was sprawled awkwardly on the floor behind her, his helmet—and his head—still rolling forward. To his left the second trooper had frozen, blaster half-lifted, the lower curve at the chin of his helmet blackened and smoking where Luke's lightsaber held an inch from his neck.

Mara's eyes flicked to Luke who stood poised, half turned about, extended arm steady, eyes on the stormtrooper though no-one in the silent room doubted that he was aware of everything around him as he spoke to Kessler, his tone not altered a whit.

"Let me clarify; I am commanded by the Emperor himself to take you onboard the Executor by whatever means necessary, Moff Kessler. Either you abide by the military oath you made and come with me, now, or I will drag you from your own bridge by force. It's your choice, if you wish your men to see that. But you are coming."

Kessler barely glanced to the officers by his side before Luke continued.

"I wasn't instructed to bring anyone else. Or to keep anyone else alive, in executing my duty."

.

.

Mara strode through the Executor's spotless corridors side by side with…what? Her husband, her partner…her Sith? She stared at the backs of the eight stormtroopers who marched a half-step behind Grand Moff Kessler, a show of force halfway between an honor guard and a security detail, their regimented footfalls loud in the echoing hallways. Her mind buzzed with the day's events—with Luke's unhesitating actions, on the Emperor's behalf.

Again, as he had on the Steadfast over Rhen Var, he had taken control and…no, more than that. He had taken over. Entirely. In those brief moments of single-minded focus he seemed so utterly capable of…anything. The Sith unleashed, trained to achieve any goal set him on his Master's behalf. In Kessler's office she'd been absolutely, unquestionably sure that had Kessler chosen to fight—to bring every stormtrooper on the damn ship down on Luke—the man, the Sith, would still have achieved the coup. Would have accomplished his mission.

And where did that leave the other man she knew—the one who had crouched before her in the shuttle, capable of such warmth and compassion? Quite suddenly and with a pang of deep disquiet, she wondered again about the sting which darkened every kiss. Remembered his words: "It's not you, it's not your fault. It's me."

She glanced briefly to him as he strode beside her, eyes ahead, still intent on the mission in play, exuding cool aggression held in check. If he was a Sith—if he carried that with him in every action and thought—was that was the darkness which invaded every kiss, tamped down and caged?

A brief thrill shot through her like a charge, lighting a spark of desire as her hand rose to brush against the chest of her uniform, where the ring that he had given her hung on a thong about her neck, unseen. His commitment, to her. Enough to reduce the Sith within to a brief flare that singed the edge of every kiss.

And if she'd agreed to marry a Sith…then surely she should accept that there would be sparks. That was the fun of playing with fire.

.

.

It was a big, echoing chamber set to the front of the Command Tower, close to its base. As such, it had an impressive view across the wide, angled hull of the citylike Super Star Destroyer, provided through a run of floor to ceiling viewports which comprised the entire span of its one external wall. Two stories in height, it was designed specifically for the Emperor's use, on what was always intended to be the flagship of his fleet.

For a full year, Mara had bitterly believed that he would never once step foot in it to take his rightful place on the raised dais which placed that magnificent view at his back. It fired a brief frisson, then, to walk in here now and see him in all his stately glory, the undeniably impressive representation of the might of his Empire glowing with a thousand lights at his back.

Shira stood to the left of the curve-backed throne, hands clasped behind her back, her black Ubiqtorate uniform flawlessly fitted. Palpatine himself rested with the wired poise of a hunting cat, his head down, features concealed in the folds of a heavy cloak and cowl, as he had with Moff Sekati.

It was a long walk, from the guard-lined entrance outside where the last of the Stormtroopers had come to a synchronized halt, to a point even halfway towards that grand dais. It was meant to be.

She glanced to Moff Kessler as he subconsciously slowed. To his other side, Luke pressed his hand to the small of Kessler's back without once breaking pace, forcing him forward. It seemed to goad the man more than anything, so that as he neared the dais he re-found his voice.

"And the opportunistic Lieutenant Brie. No surprise there," Kessler said loudly. "You should charge for your loyalty by the hour, my dear."

His eyes came to the cloaked and hooded man who sat without comment on the throne before her. "So this must be our supposed Emperor, returned to claim his throne. Go ahead—what fraudulent play are you spouting as to your absence? I hope it's better than your leashed Sith, here. He didn't bother to even try to maintain the cover Brie had so assiduously created for his whereabouts." He was full of bluster now, whipping himself into the righteous fury that only someone who believed himself untouchable could muster. "Go ahead—I'm sure you've rehearsed it enough, the four of you."

Mara bristled at his blatant disrespect, reaching out to grab at the back of his high military collar—

"Ah-ah, Mara." Sun-bright eyes glanced to her from beneath Palpatine's hood, his voice amused. "His insults weren't for you…or his fear."

Rising, Palpatine stepped forward from his new throne, making no attempt to curb his height or vitality, as he had with others. No attempt to be the ageing ruler. Instead he brought his hands to the hood of his gown and flung it back, shrugging free of the cloak altogether to let it pool at his heels as he stepped slowly forwards, straight and strong and coolly superior, the massed lights of the Super Star Destroyer glowing at his back as he stared down from the dais.

Kessler shifted on the spot, some of his bluster lost to surprise. "You don't even look like him."

"No? Come a little closer, Moff Kessler. Look into my eyes."

"Lenses can be faked."

"I didn't mean their color. You were always so proud of the fact that you could stare down any enemy, as I recall." Palpatine tilted his head, voice coolly daring. He stood like a man in his prime, shoulders back, head high. He stood like an Emperor. "Do that with me, now. Stare me down, and I might just let you keep control of this petty little portion of my fleet."

Again Kessler faltered…then regained his insolence, lifting a gloved hand to point as he looked to Shira. "This—this is who you follow? He's got no more right to call himself Emperor than I have! Whatever hoax you have in play I won't be party to it, and I won't cow-tow to it, either."

Palpatine glanced briefly to Shira as amusement twitched his thin lips, then back to Kessler. "I believe you. I do. You always lacked the vision to see anything beyond your own ambition…and that was always pitifully blind. That's what consigned you to the Rim systems in the first place…and now, with even that hanging in the balance, you still haven't the sense to see what will save either your petty career or your pathetic hide."

Kessler hesitated, more uncertain than ever. "…Who are you?"

Palpatine's smooth features slid to a self-possessed smile. "I am your Emperor."

A longer pause this time, as Kessler's voice broke just slightly. "Give me proof."

"Proof? A man I relegated to the edges of my Empire now thinks he can demand, of me—me?! Get down on your knees, little man. Put your head to the floor and I may let you live, despite your barefaced insolence."

It was in this moment that Mara realized how unlikely that was. Not because of Palpatine's words—she had seen him shout down others with far harsher threats than these, and knew he was shrewd enough to dismiss or exploit Kessler's provocations for his own ends even now, should he so choose. Not even because of all that Luke had said earlier; though Luke obviously didn't believe the same, she knew their master capable of incredible benevolence if he felt the individual deserved it. But it was none of that. It was far, far simpler…

Because he'd shucked his cloak, revealing his face. A man in his prime, rather than the ageing Emperor who all expected to see. He'd maintained his old persona with meticulous discipline before the other Moffs…but not here.

So then…why this? If he was going to execute the man, whether for self-serving disloyalty or as a necessity to advance his own return to power, why all this? There was no audience to watch and learn, no-one here but the faithful-and the fated.

Kessler was faltering…and Palpatine was barely getting started.

"You have failed, in every possible aspect of your duties as an Imperial Moff. You failed to exact retribution from those who instigated the attack against me, you failed to maintain my Empire whilst I was absent, you failed to act against others who did the same, and you failed to complete the Death Star as scheduled—the only direct order I ever gave you."

"Complete…there's a civil war! The Rebellion has taken control of almost the entire Rim systems. I'm the only Moff who still holds his territory out here. Unaided! I should be stepping into Tarkin's boots on the Death Star project, not validating an impossible demand!"

"Interesting that you chose that, of all accusations I leveled, to defend. Perhaps you thought it the only one you possibly could?" Palpatine shook his head slowly. "It will do you no good. You are a product of your times, Moff Kessler, and hopelessly outmoded. The Old Guard whom I allowed to fester, indolent in their power and position, have no place in the new Empire I will build. All that I lost, I will prize so much more for the challenge and the pleasure of its regaining." He turned to the side and walked slowly about the back of his throne as if considering the imposing stretch of the hulking Super Star Destroyer, its complex multilevel structures a massed and sparkling cityscape set within the vast hull of the arrow-edged Destroyer.

"Every battle and victory, every conquest…" He paused in his slow walk to tilt his head towards Shira, who loosed a smile…and Mara's eyes opened wide in realization—were they…?

"All of my experience and erudition," Palpatine continued, "all shall be fired through with a new vitality, a new hunger. I had become complacent, I had become jaded, I had become old…" Thin lips creased to a self-congratulatory grin. "I am none of those things any more. And I will not tolerate them about me. A new leadership is required to execute my renewed vision. The inspired, the hungry...the worthy." As he spoke, Palpatine's eyes returned to Shira, and she straightened, smile widening in anticipation as he continued. "But first I must clear house. Sweep away the old to make way for the new."

"The gullible," Kessler shot back.

Palpatine's head twitched back to Kessler. He stepped from the dais, moving swiftly and smoothly, shoulders tilted forward, utterly confident. Mara and Luke took another step back to leave Kessler alone as he twitched, suppressing the obvious desire to recoil as Palpatine closed with utter contempt in his ocher eyes…

"You misunderstand your place here, Moff Kessler. This is not a discussion, it is not your chance to validate or justify, and your input is not required, in any form. The decision has already been made." He didn't slow as he reached Kessler but instead moved to walk around him, passing first behind Mara and then Luke, voice almost mocking. "I brought you here only to meet your replacement…"

Palpatine paused level with Luke's back…and brought his hands up to rest on his shoulders. Luke's head snapped round from Kessler to Palpatine, his shock as visible as the jolt which fired through Mara's own frame. On the dais Shira straightened with a brief, strangled sound of utter frustration, her hands curling to fists at her sides. Instantly she pulled herself under control, but her eyes had narrowed, lips a hard line.

Mara followed her glare, eyes alighting first on Luke, then flicking to Kessler, whose outrage echoed Shira's.

"Him?! You want to replace me with this juvenile little upstart?"

Palpatine's hands tightened a fraction on Luke's shoulders, offence audible in his voice. "He's already more capable than you. His loyalty, his obedience, is unimpeachable."

"He's a child!"

"I have complete faith in him."

"Dressing a boy in a man's uniform and granting him an unearned commission doesn't make him capable."

Luke bristled, taking a step forward before he managed to regain control and halt himself. Palpatine, who had let his hands slip free as Luke set forward, moved close again to clasp one shoulder in reassurance as he leveled his words at Kessler. "A new order is being ushered in, one of vigor and vitality. Of solidarity. Of commitment. This man would give his life for me."

"Then he's a fool, too," Kessler accused.

Again Luke twitched, jaw grinding. Again Palpatine grinned, hand tightening on Luke's shoulder. "My faith is here."

He said it with such conviction that Luke turned a fraction, searching Palpatine's eyes. Palpatine met his gaze in brief acknowledgment before turning back to Kessler, tone dismissive.

"You are ordered to hand all of your active security codes over immediately, and to inform your senior officers of your dismissal, so that they can facilitate Commander Antilles' takeover of command. Failure to do this will be constituted as treason."

"No-one will accept him!" Kessler practically laughed the words.

"I accept him. That is enough."

And quite suddenly, Mara knew what she was seeing—why Palpatine had chosen to have Kessler brought onboard and to this meeting rather than simply removed, as he'd ordered Luke to do with the Captain of the Steadfast. Palpatine's decision to reveal his face, his openly aggressive manner, pushing for a confrontation… This wasn't a test of Kessler's loyalty—it never had been. Luke was right; the man was already marked, useful only as a pawn in a greater game.

Because this was about dealing with discord far closer to home. It was about Luke and Palpatine. About underlining the connection between them—reinforcing it. About engineering a situation specifically to induce Luke to close ranks before an outside threat, in a setting which Palpatine controlled completely.

Dragged into the center of the argument by Palpatine's actions, with insults hurled at him from one side and unconditional support offered from the other, Luke couldn't help but be pulled in, reacting without seeing the strings. But stood on the outside looking in, it was patently clear what was happening as Palpatine remained behind Luke, hand to his shoulder, subtly holding him center-stage in this carefully managed scheme.

"I order you for the last time, Moff Kessler. You will relinquish command with immediate effect and hand all active codes over to Commander Antilles…or he will take them by force."

Kessler straightened, backed into a corner by Palpatine's antagonistic stance—and he would have known that; Palpatine would have known that the hotheaded Kessler would react this way. He'd purposely incited it.

At least Kessler had one last unexpected action to spring. He whirled about and strode for the door, head held high. Palpatine looked immediately to Luke.

Luke part-turned, one hand raising, fingers outstretched—and Kessler loosed a loud, shocked gasp as his legs gave way and he dropped to his knees with painful force, hand reaching to the center of his chest. He keeled over forward, one hand to the floor to support himself, chest heaving, though he clearly couldn't draw air.

Palpatine made the slightest push of his hand on Luke's shoulder, then let it slip free, still and impassive as Luke stalked forward, goaded into action.

He reached the straining man, whose hand had lifted from his chest to claw at his own throat as Luke crouched beside him, voice quietly deadly. "You were given a command by your Emperor, Moff Kessler."

Kessler reached his hand out to grasp at Luke's uniform jacket, and for a moment Mara actually thought he'd fight…but he let out another wrenching gasp and doubled over forward, clenched hand falling free.

"Last chance," Luke whispered. "Last chance, before I come in there—and believe me, you don't want me rifling through your head."

"He won't concede," Palpatine pressed quietly, eyes to the floor. "Not to you."

Luke's head tilted just a fraction…and Mara stared, shocked to silence as the veins on Kessler's forehead began to bulge like rope. Even she sensed the pressure building like static, itching the inside of her scalp as it charged the air, Kessler at its center.

He let out a broken yelp of pain which hitched to silence as his head jerked back…and Mara watched, horrified, as the man's eyes rolled, chest locking, free hand grasping for Luke but falling short, fingers curling closed.

One knee to the ground before the struggling man, Luke's head tilted a fraction further, eyes narrowed as they travelled Kessler's face, unmoved. "All that noise, little man," he whispered. "All that belligerence, from something this fragile. Tell me again which of us shouldn't be here—which of us is out of his depth."

He didn't move—didn't even reach out a hand, as Mara knew that her master always did to focus his abilities—but Kessler let out another pained gasp, head dropping forward as blood surged from his nose in a dark stream to pool on the polished floor.

"Don't," Luke whispered. "Don't try to hide it. I'll turn you inside out if I have to."

She took a breath to speak his name—but beside her Palpatine's head snapped round, his look enough to silence her. Could she have said it anyway in that moment, throat constricted in shock as her eyes were drawn inexorably back to Luke?

Was she finally seeing the Sith her master had trained since childhood? She'd known that he was his Master's prodigy, but everything that she'd seen before paled, those brief, ruthless sparks little more than dim allusions to the coiled power that loosed itself now with neither pity nor compunction.

Was this the spark of fire that burned in every kiss?

Kessler's gasping breaths were loud and labored as Luke rose, his own chest rising and falling rapidly, jaw muscles jumping, though Mara couldn't tell if it was anger or disgust, or whether it was aimed at himself or Kessler.

"You have what you need," Palpatine growled as Luke nodded once. "Finish him."

Luke's head jerked to Palpatine, brow furrowing. He didn't move. No-one did.

The barest twitch shaped Palpatine's lips as he set forward, voice low and hypnotic, eyes on Luke alone. "Finish him. I don't care how. Crush his windpipe, break his neck, open the arteries in his brain. I don't care—just kill him."

As he neared, Palpatine lifted one hand to tighten slim fingers across the back of Luke's neck and turn him gently back to the still-gasping man. Luke stared as Palpatine leaned in close to his shoulder, a voice in his ear—in his thoughts themselves, it seemed, from Luke's expression.

"You remember those words, don't you?" Palpatine whispered. "You're no longer the squeamish child you were then. You're not weak, in resolve or ability. Finish him."

The tableau remained still, Luke's eyes on Kessler, lips a thin line, drawn on by Palpatine's words in a way that Mara couldn't fathom. She found her own lungs had locked, breath stilled as the moment drew taut.

Palpatine leaned closer, his words for Luke alone, quiet persuasion rather than his usual brusque command. "You knew when you started this that you brought him to his execution—you knew when you marched him in here that that's what this was. Is it so very distasteful, to finish what you've begun? You were never a hypocrite."

She watched the battle play out on Luke's face as he stared at the broken Kessler, whose breath came heavy, head low as he retched, blood flowing freely from his nose and mouth.

"Finish him," The words pulsed with persuasion. "Don't make him beg." Palpatine paused, eyes lifting from the man still on his knees. "…Or is that what you want?"

Luke twitched, offense snapping his head round to Palpatine.

"Finish him," Palpatine hissed. "Or I will. I'll make him truly beg…"

There was a threat in the words, though Mara couldn't imagine what. But it was aimed at the man on the ground, as Palpatine's attention turned slowly to him, hand lifting—

It was abrupt; immediate. Luke turned to Kessler, chin twitching once—and with a wrenching crack as loud as any blaster shot, Kessler's head snapped about too far and too fast…

He dropped loose-limbed, the impact making Mara flinch in shock.

Luke was already turning to walk away before Kessler's body hit the ground; was at the heavy double doors before Mara had really registered what he'd done. For a moment he hesitated, head turning briefly to meet her gaze…then he walked from the chamber, footsteps loud in the silence.

Mara's eyes went back to the body…but were dragged up by awareness of Palpatine's attention, that coolly calculating gaze boring into her. She looked down, uneasy…but he said nothing, letting the moment pass.

She was left to turn to the door as it closed behind Luke, wondering again at that searing flare which singed the edge of every kiss.

Quite suddenly, playing with fire seemed a dangerous thing.

.

.

.

.

The Force still buzzed through Luke, crackling at his fingertips, leaving the distinct impression that it would jump like tiny shards of lightening to ground on any surface, had he held out his hand.

He stood naked in his shower, the lights to his quarters and the fresher itself turned off—he didn't need them, not when the Force was coursing through him like this. He didn't want them anyway; didn't want to see…anything.

But when he closed his eyes he saw Mara—sensed her shock. Her misgivings.

He didn't want her to be afraid of him.

He hung his head to let the cool water rush over it…and instantly he was there again, looking down at Kessler. Remembering another man, long ago. Remembering Palpatine's hand about the back of his neck, nails like claws, rasping voice commanding; demanding. "Crush his windpipe, break his neck, open the arteries in his brain. I don't care how—just kill him."

How old had he been, then? Eleven? Twelve? He couldn't remember any more. Strange, that of all things, it was his own age that he couldn't remember. He remembered their names—all of them. Took some perverted solace from it. If you killed a man, you should at least have the good grace to remember his name. Sentimentality, guilt…blatant stupidity?

Another name, now; store it with the others— Kern Derrig, Keev Kline, Bria Tharen, Jace Paol, Daino Hix, Burrid, Larens, Mecht, Renna… And this year—this year, there'd been Vale Taggel, in the cantina on Tatooine. Carrice, who'd drawn a blaster on him in the alleyway at the back of the Black Nova on Rishi, thinking Luke had a bounty on his head. Then Captain Beyer and Commander Tatton, who had done nothing at all...and now Saldago Kessler. He wondered briefly if he should count Indo, who had died at Corsin because of Luke…but then if he started counting indirect fatalities he wouldn't have a chance of remembering.

Stood in the water, letting it stream through his hair, he saw the moment again—relived the memory of the very first:

Bail and Breha Organa, knelt with their hands clasped behind their necks, the hard muzzles of stormtrooper rifles resting to the back of their heads. Breha—beautiful Breha, the only mother he'd known, whose hair had always been pinned in thick, glossy plaits, shot through with pearls or ribbons…now it fell across her gaunt face in straggled strands, hacked half-short. And Bail, his adoptive father, battered and bruised, whispering words of reassurance to Luke that both knew he couldn't deliver.

And in that last second as Palpatine had counted down to zero…Breha had turned—just for an instant she'd glanced to Bail, then she'd turned back to Luke—and her eyes, her eyes were so wide in that moment…

Luke jolted as the memory burst apart in a wide scatter of scarlet droplets. He slapped the shower off, backpedalling as he did so, suddenly repulsed by the water in his hair—on his skin.

In an instant he was out of the shower and stood naked and dripping on the fresher floor, eyes wide in the darkness, chest heaving… Over time his tremors gave way to simple shivering, and he pulled his thoughts together and took the robe from the back of the door, chiding his own weakness in giving the memory free rein for even a second as he walked through the small dressing room and into the living space beyond—

Which was now lit. The low lamp at the work desk had been turned partway up, illuminating the room's sole occupant.

Palpatine sat idly flicking through the items on Luke's desk.

For the smallest fraction of a single second Luke faltered—then caught his pace and continued walking with forced nonchalance, grinding his jaw, knowing that this was an effort on Palpatine's part to place him off-guard and make him uncomfortable.

Palpatine didn't turn, instead lifting Luke's lightsaber hilt, abandoned on the desk, to study it with exaggerated interest. "Trying to wash the whole unpleasant experience away?"

"There isn't enough water." Once, he would have held his silence...now he said it anyway.

Palpatine smiled, replacing the lightsaber. "Oh, such wounded morality."

"No. You beat that out of me a long time ago, you know that. Try distaste, at being used."

"Used? You detested the man. You marched him into my presence with barely-controlled revulsion. You wanted to kill him….or did you simply want him dead?" Palpatine tipped his head, the long tail of dark hair at his nape falling over his shoulder as he lifted an eyebrow. "Who was seeking to use who, exactly?"

Luke felt his lip twitch in disgust. "He was arrogant and egotistical. But if you consider those sufficient grounds to kill a Moff then you'd slim your military by half overnight."

"Be my guest. Fresh blood in the leadership, and a Sith who finally shows his true colors, would be a progress indeed."

Luke paused, turning to face that smoothly indifferent countenance. "You'd actually let me, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps that's what you need; a little bloodlust to feed the fire, again." He glanced to the dark tattoo just visible at Luke's chest. "Wash the grubby mundanity from that Black Heart. Perhaps then I'd finally see the eyes of a true Sith staring back at me."

"Oh, you've built your Sith, believe me."

"Really?" Palpatine asked mildly. "Then are there fire-red eyes beneath that muddy dye?"

"My whole damn life you've judged me and found me wanting."

"Then live up to my expectations."

"I did! I always did—you made sure of that in your own inimitable fashion!"

"I made you strong," Palpatine hissed, eyes aglow as he leaned forward. "Every single day of your life I toiled to mold you into a force to be reckoned with. One that cannot be ignored."

"You made me into a…" He broke off.

"What? A monster?" His Master's lips curled, tone mocking. "Don't be naïve. I ground into you a strength that others only dream of. You're not a child, you know that you will hold the respect of any being for exactly as long as you are willing to turn your abilities on them. Have you forgotten everything that I taught you?"

Palpatine rose to walk forward, closing the gap between them to a single pace as Luke clenched his jaw, refusing to lift his head to meet his Master's eyes as he continued his lesson.

"There are two types of people in the galaxy—those who see what you can do and imagine it turned to their advantage, and those who see what you can do, and imagine it turned against them. The latter are the ongoing threats who wait in feigned, compliant silence for you to turn your back or relax your guard, so that they may try to destroy you. They are the constant irritation which needs to be constrained or nullified. The former…ah, they are your true adversaries. It is there that you must make your presence felt. If you do not control them, then they will most certainly exploit and manipulate you. Defeat them—subdue them—and all others will fall into line."

"So which are you, Master?"

Palpatine's lip twitched. "I am the exception to all things. You know that." He reached one hand forward to wrap his fingers about the back of Luke's neck, voice dropping to more persuasive tones. "You and I, we are the same. You will stand where I am, one day."

"Only not…because now you'll live forever. Jump from clone to clone, at will."

Palpatine smiled. "Ah, such resentment, when you've yet to even reach your prime…but perhaps the same could eventually be arranged for you, my friend."

"Live forever? I couldn't imagine anything more horrific." He turned casually to one side, enabling him to move a fraction away.

"So bitter," Palpatine said with amused dismissal, allowing his hand about Luke's neck to slip free. "I'm gone for barely a year, and you rewrite yourself."

"I was already half way here," Luke said calmly.

That thin, divisive smile narrowed Palpatine's lips. "I could have held it off another five years, easily."

"If you'd kept me in the palace," Luke acknowledged flatly. "Under close control."

"Exactly."

Luke studied him for a second, aware that this was a new strategy; that he was being shown the strings by the puppet-master. But if that was the case, then it was only because there were others being set in place. "Only you can't keep me locked up or tied down any more," he said levelly, "because you have no Vader. And you can't reclaim or hold onto your Empire without someone out there—without another Sith as your second in command."

Palpatine shrugged nonchalantly. "I have Brie and Jade."

"Neither of whom are fully trained. Nor will they be in time to push this through, even if you did decide to train them further…which I don't think you will," Luke said confidently. "You're going to have to give me a longer leash."

"... Perhaps."

"Just as you did my—" He caught himself, hesitated…and then said it anyway. "Just as you did my father."

He held his Master's eye, unmoving, as Palpatine stared for several seconds.

"Is that what you call him, now?"

"Does that bother you?"

That searching stare turned into the wide, disingenuous grin Luke recognized so well, for all its new youth. "Not in the least, child." It was the first time in a while he'd called Luke that; the first time he'd felt the need to fall back on it. "You may call him what you wish, for all I care. Call him your executioner, because that's certainly what he would have been so very many times, had I not intervened."

"Only because from the moment you found me, you did everything possible to ensure that."

"Your father was a traitor," Palpatine said it quickly and decisively, knowing its power; that from an early age it was this above all else which had been instilled into Luke as the ultimate sin. "First he betrayed the Jedi who raised and trained him, then he betrayed me, the man who gave him power, position and purpose. And there is nothing as vile and as base as a traitor. So I ask you now, to your face...do you intend to follow in your father's contemptible footsteps, to be as bitter a disappointment… Or will you seek to make amends? Compensate for his failures and claw back the redemption that he so damningly forced you to pursue?"

Luke stared in silence, skewered by the vitriol in his Master's voice…

"You hesitate, child."

"…No, I..."

"Oh, but you do. The moment has played out, the opportunity lost…and still you stand, and I wait."

"I'll never turn my back on you, you know that."

"That was not the question."

"I'll make up for my father's failure." Had he said that? Been backed so easily into calling his father's attempt to protect him a failure?

Palpatine's hand came to Luke's jaw, lifting it gently but firmly, voice softening. "And still such reluctance."

"Not in my loyalty…just… I give it freely, you know that. Why do you have to…" He fell to resigned silence, looking down.

"Why?" Palpatine asked, hand still to Luke's lowered chin. "Because you don't. Because even now, after all that you've just pledged, you are still failing me. Your attention—and therefore your loyalty—is divided."

Luke took a breath, but Palpatine cut him off before he could assemble even the hastiest denial.

"I gave you so much—everything that you are. Just as I did your father. Your father…who turned on me the moment that his loyalties were divided." Palpatine stared, the accusation in his voice echoed in ocher eyes. "Your father betrayed the Jedi for the sake of another…and he betrayed me for the same, sixteen years later." He shook his head slowly. "How gullible, how lacking in judgment would I be, to allow the same flaw to fester in his son?"

Luke's breath left him in a silent gasp which turned every strength into trepidation. Because despite his denial, he knew where this was leading. "I don't—"

"In the past, I have taken from you by force those whom I deemed too great a draw on your attention. And when I have, it has been with a ruthlessness which left you…bereft."

His heart skipped; it missed a beat and then drummed hard against his chest. Without thinking he took a step back as scarlet-spattered images of Bail and Brea Organa screamed briefly in his mind, their eyes wide, his name choked off mid-shout.

Palpatine's voice had quietened again, though there was not an iota of compromise. "Luke…these are old lessons, and I understand why they have lapsed in my absence. But your life—your foundations and motivations—are now reinstated, and you must put all else aside. Everything. There is no room for anything but true and total loyalty. You once spent every day of your life in pursuit of that most noble goal, and you must dedicate yourself to it again. I have only ever asked this one thing of you, and in return I have given you shelter from the storm, I have given you meaning, I have given you life itself. I ask for so little…"

Luke glanced down as Palpatine stepped in close.

"Set her aside, child. Yours must be a path of solitude. Of dedication to duty. I ask you this to make you strong, to make you whole again."

"No, you do it to regain control."

"I do it to save her. Did your father tell you what happened to your mother—that he killed her in a fit of rage. A single lapse of temper."

"I don't believe you."

Palpatine glared…then his lip twitched infinitesimally as his eyes moved from affront to cool confidence. "She died as you were born, I was told. Distraught and alone, with a broken heart."

Shira's shrewdly mocking words to Luke rang again through his besieged thoughts; "She'll break your little black heart. She will, because you'll break hers. You can't help it, it's who you are. It's what he made you."

Palpatine's eyes lifted, voice softening. "It nearly destroyed your father, this ignominy. It robbed him of so much. Would you have the object of your own pitiful obsession die at your hand in some brief, blind fit of rage, as your father killed your mother? Would you have her die at mine, tonight, to save you from suffering the same bleak aftermath that beset your father?"

"The fire in the forest, you said," Luke grasped at the memory. Palpatine frowned, confused. But the words he had spoken months ago as a validation that Luke remained loyal to him alone, had lodged in Luke's head as effectively as all his Master's claims. "You said that Sith were like flames in a forest; eventually they burned everything around them, whether they meant to or not."

His Master nodded. "As your father did your mother."

"But with you I was rendered safe, you said, because we were the same. Only fire can withstand fire."

Realizing his logic, Palpatine shook his head. "She is not like you. She is as a spark to the sun, and you will surely destr—"

"You said that the Force brought you and I together again because it recognized that—because it was fated. Why not with her, too? Why not that elemental draw?"

He knew his error as the words had left his mouth. Palpatine stared, his agitation so heated that it curled back the edges of that cool control to reveal the raw, resentful jealousy simmering beneath all his validations. "Is that what you feel?"

Luke looked quickly down. "No. I just…"

He'd been on the verge of admitting the commitment he and Mara had already made, but had shied away in the last heartbeat. The wisdom of that was made crystal clear by Palpatine's clipped words, uttered between curled lips with irrevocable finality.

"Cut her free. Now. Do it decisively. Do it with resolve and conviction. Shatter that link. Burn the bridge, utterly and completely. You have known for a long time that ruthless detachment can be a hidden kindness, and this is no different. Do it now, of your own will…or I will do it for you."

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