AN: Thank you to everyone who is taking time to read my efforts. Thank you, too, to everyone who has been kind enough to leave comments.

As before: All previous disclaimers apply.

Dark Times: Chapter 6

A Legitimate Target

Part Two

Leia Organa rubbed at her eyes, her fingers moving to her temples to massage her headache. This meeting had been going on to long and she was tired. Tired of all the talking that didn't seem to solve anything and often ended up just adding to their problems. There were supply issues with food again, they were down three pilots for the X-Wings, the techs were having problems with one of the fighters, fuel was an issue with the last supply run being intercepted by the Empire. However, personnel numbers were high overall, with the numbers from Ra'imar swelling the ranks and causing overcrowding; all temporary shelters had been utilised and the X-Wing mechanics were bunking in the hangars. The weapons run that Solo was on was overdue by three days.

He was probably drunk in bar somewhere...

The geological reports on the mountain stated that a full eruption was still some time away; the pressure being continuously vented was a good thing. So there had been positive news.

She sighed, picked up the datapad in front of her and scrolled down through the agenda, wondering if they were going to break for lunch or carry right on through. She turned back to the meeting, trying to concentrate on the topic of discussion; transferring some of the Ra'imar survivors to other Alliance out posts.

"I really think that we need to look at the bigger picture," Rieekan was saying, imploring the others around the table including Mon Mothma who was chairing, Ehlen Anders, from Alliance Intelligence, Captain S'adaan who was responsible for supplies, Commander Narra of Red Squad as well as the Princess Leia Organa and others more politically minded. "Having the additional ground troopers here gives us the..."

"Having the additional soldiers creates difficulties," S'adaan countered, the Sullustan's large dark eyes blinked rapidly. "We have barely enough to go around and there have been discipline issues among the lower ranks."

"Discipline, isn't an issue," Rieekan admonished quickly. These were his men S'adaan was talking about. "It's no more a problem now than..."

The door of the closed meeting swept open and Leia sat up as Major Erwin Rhovan strode in, immediately addressing Mon Mothma and ignoring Rieekan's protestations at the interruption with a wry smile.

"Mi'Lady, forgive the intrusion, but I didn't think this could wait." He glanced toward Leia as he handed a datapad to the Chief of State.

Mon Mothma took her time reading the information, her cheeks paling slightly as her eyes scanned the document. She glanced at the representatives at the table, then back up at Rhovan. "This information is accurate, Major?" Her voice was quiet, disturbed.

"Yes, Ma'am, we only finished decoding. It's from our source within the Bothan Spynet."

Mothma placed the datapad on the table. "Thank you, Major Rhovan. Please join us."

Rhovan grabbed an empty chair from the side of the room and sat at the conference table opposite to the Princess Organa. The daughter of Darth Vader and the sister of Luke Skywalker was looking at him with interest. He nodded in recognition of her while taking a mental note to introduce himself to her when this meeting ended.

Leia acknowledged the Major's greeting with small nod of her own.

So, this was Rhovan, the man who had rescued Luke from Darth Vader. That was the official story, but she knew that a different one lay beyond it. Due to her friendship with Luke she had not been party to the full story, had been advised away from Luke's hearing several weeks ago and even Luke himself had said little. He didn't have to. She had seen him, she had seen what had been done to him and she suspected that she knew by whom. Rhovan had been an Imperial Interrogation specialist and Luke had been his prisoner.

Her stomach twisted with anger, and she felt the emotion blush on her cheeks, hating that she had to sit in the same room as him now. Rhovan was the type of man who believed that the ends suited the means, where she had been taught, and believed, the very opposite. If the Alliance were to stoop to such tactics as the Empire then they would not deserve to win this war. However, she knew there were those among her peers who believed, and authorised, actions that Vader himself would be proud of in the name of the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

It sickened her: worried her. Would the restoration of the Republic be won solely with blood? She feared it would: feared that this conflict would be as brutal as the Clone Wars. After all, had she not taken up arms herself against her own people's peaceful beliefs? And had they not paid the ultimate punishment?

She shook herself from the memory, tore her inner eye from visions of Alderaan as it died in the flash of the Death Star's tremendous power, and directed her attention to Mothma. The Chief of State was telling the gathering what Rhovan had shown her. She needed to listen, to focus on the words and not on the man sitting at the other side of the table, or on memories too terrible to contemplate, or a pain that was too much to bear.

"... gravity of this information." Mon Mothma was saying. "The Cusrean Imperial Bio-Weapons facility has been upgraded and expanded. It appears to have made a breakthrough in the development of Felucian Necrosis. They have developed a method to disperse the spores that activates and accelerates their reproductive properties in air, in water and through touch. According to their data, subjects of varying species are incapacitated in fifteen minutes, dead in twelve hours. They are moving onto the weapons production and testing stage; they have tentatively suggested to the Emperor that they test the toxin on Mygeeto and are awaiting his decision."

She paused, looked down at the data in her hand. "I remember the reports from Felucia about the Necrosis during the clone wars, how the flesh was eaten. I remember that the infected clones died in agony."

There was silence in the room, all day to day petty problems forgotten as the information sank in. A horrible death on a massive scale; male, female, children of many species.

Mon Mothma put the pad down and looked around the sombre room. "I suggest Cusrean is our next target."

Rieekan nodded. "I concur."

"We need more information about the Cusrean facility," Leia said, leaning forward to address Mon Mothma at the top of the table. "And..."

"It's all in the report," Rhovan explained. "It's an orbital platform, lightly armed, but heavily guarded by a Command ship and two additional cruisers. There is a refitting and refuelling station also in orbit, but the report suggests that facility is being decommissioned."

"Orbital," Commander Narra also sat forward, knowing this would be his mission. "The TIE compliment alone from these ships would number..."

"... twelve TIEs per attack squadron, six squadrons per attack wing. Three wings in a standard cruiser, six in the Super Star Destroyer," Rhovan informed him, grinning. He shrugged. "Assuming they are all working of course."

Leia felt her blood run cold as she did the math. The odds of an attack against a force of that size was...

"...suicide!" S'adaan was saying. "We can't sanction this."

"Then we sanction the deaths of millions, Captain," Mon Mothma told him sharply. "If we fail to act now, before they have fully weaponised the spores and tested them, our fight for the Republic will fail completely."

"This isn't like the Death Star," the Captain argued. "This is something that our own science division can countermand with..."

"How many would die before an antidote, or a vaccine, could be produced?" Rieekan broke in. "How would we distribute it? Could we even succeed when they failed so badly to find a treatment during the Clone Wars?" The General was drawing on his own experiences of the Clone Wars. He had seen men die of the disease.

"There is no doubt that we have to strike," Mon Mothma told them.

"The research station is old. It has been upgraded and refitted recently, but it is essentially the same platform that was built just after Palpatine came to power," Rhovan told them. "One or two proton torpedoes should do the trick. It's the getting close to it that would be the difficult part."

"And the getting away again," Narra told them, pointedly. "If the odds weren't bad enough, I'm down three pilots."

"Do we have time to recruit pilots from another outpost?" Mon Mothma wanted to know. "Derra IV is..."

"They have already asked Palpatine for permission. He could sanction it in hours, we don't have time, M'Lady," Rhovan reminded her.

"Hours..." she echoed, paling. "Is there anyone else with fighter experience that we could draft into an X-Wing?"

"There's Luke."

All heads turned at the soft voice.

"There's Luke," Leia said again, louder this time.

Narra smiled, nodding. "Having Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker back would help. He's one of the best pilots we have and..."

"He's grounded pending the completion of physical and mental evaluations," Ehlen Anders reminded them. "He's not ready."

"His scores in the simulator say different," Narra countered, biting back anger. "His reflexes are quicker than ever, his concentration in the cockpit is frankly astounding."

"In a simulator," Anders stressed. "That is hardly a combat situation, where the environment and mental approach is somewhat different. This is not the kind of battle that we want Skywalker to fight in just yet."

"This is exactly what Luke needs, to get back into the cockpit," Narra argued, tightly. "I need him back in my squad, Major."

"Can you take the chance of him freezing when things get tough?" Ehlen asked. "You'd end up another pilot down, and a ship down. Possibly more."

"I have twenty birds, Major," Narra informed her, laconically, "and eighteen pilots including Luke. I'm going up against over eight hundred TIE fighters, several hundred Interceptors, a Super class Star Destroyer and at least two additional cruisers. I have a feeling I'll be lucky not to lose us all."

Narra's brief outline of the situation sobered them all, Leia included. How could she have been so eager to put Luke into danger?

It's what he would want...

It's what he has been complaining about for weeks. It's what he had been craving; it's what made him pace her quarters like a caged Tree-Myre. His impatience, his need, his longing: transforming themselves into an unfulfilled nervous energy.

"I need to go back up, Leia. I need to get back into the fight. I'm going stir crazy being stuck here."

"You need to heal, Luke," she reminded him.

"I have healed!" he exclaimed. "How much more healing do I need to do?"

"I'm not a doctor, Luke..."

He sank to the floor, sitting cross legged at her feet, defeated. "Maybe I should just go with Han."

Her heart sank. "He's asked you again?"

He nodded, not looking at her. "Several times."

"And are you considering it?" She was astounded, taken aback, afraid. "Luke, you know that..."

"Leia, I..." he took in a shuddering breath, kept his eyes on the floor unable to meet hers. "This is what I need. Not just what I want. I... I have too much time..." and he turned his eyes to her. The blue, dulled, deepened with pain, with memories. "...you know?"

She did know, she did understand. You had to keep busy to keep the memories at bay. The cell, the droid, the despair and anguish.

"Luke should go," she reaffirmed, hoping she was doing the right thing for him.

It was Rhovan who spoke next. "I agree."

"And why is that, Major Rhovan?" Mothma wanted to know.

Leia looked to the Chief of State, surprised that Mon Mothma had asked the Major and not her to explain why Luke should join the attack,

Rhovan suppressed a smile, deliberately avoided the Princess's eyes as he spoke. "The command ship is Darth Vader's."

And Leia saw something pass between the two Chandrilans; it seemed to be an understanding that only they were party to. It confused her, unsettled her.

Something about Luke and Darth Vader.

"Very well," Mon Mothma agreed. "Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker will rejoin Red Squad." She turned to the senior Military figures. "General Rieekan, Commander Narra, as time is of the essence I suggest you plan our strategy immediately. We only have a few have hours, gentlemen if we are to pull this off. I cannot stress enough that we must succeed in this endeavour or the Galaxy will surely suffer the consequences of our failure today."

Leia swallowed her disquiet, pushed it aside as the meeting broke up. She headed for the door. She wanted to see Luke, wanted to tell him herself what was happening. She wanted to see him before he left...

To say goodbye...

And wish him luck.

"Your Highness!"

She turned at the call and found Rhovan heading her way. "Major, what can I do for you?"

He towered over her, smiled down at her. "I just wanted to say how thrilled I was to finally meet you. I was a great admirer of your father's."

Somehow Leia doubted this, although she could find no reason why Rhovan should lie to her. "Thank you, Major, and I should thank you for returning Luke to us."

"Perhaps the credit should lie with Luke's droid. It created the window of opportunity to escape."

Leia smiled, genuinely. "Yes, Artoo does not stray too far from Luke's side."

"Such loyalty is rare," Rhovan noted.

"Luke has... a knack for instilling loyalty in many, not just in droids." Leia told him.

"Then I shall bear that in mind," Rhovan told her. He bowed as an alarm sounded around the base and a call for the pilots was broadcast. Suddenly there was an urgency in the air. "If you'll excuse me?"

And Leia was left feeling that she had just said something she shouldn't have and that Rhovan had used her to gain information. After all he was a talented interrogator, one who didn't always need to torture his subjects. By why would the loyalty that others have for Luke be worth knowing?

"Lieutenant- Commander Skywalker report to the Command Centre..."

Leia cursed at the call over the external com and ran from the room, hoping to find Luke before he was too tied up with the preparations for the mission.

ooOOoo

"Hey, hey! What do we have here! A rookie!"

There was a cacophony of cheers and light hearted jeers as Luke moved through the briefing room. He high-fived Hobbie, knocked knuckles with Janson and shook hands with several pilots he didn't recognise. He'd been away too long.

Luke grinned at Wedge Antilles as he dropped into the chair next to him. He had just been pulling on a clean jacket after showering and dressing when the call for the pilots had gone out. The tension on the base had notably tightened and he had known immediately that something was going on. Initially he thought it may have been a ship by passing the system that they needed to check out, but when he had heard his own name called, he knew it had been something else.

He had only stepped a toe into the command centre when Rieekan ordered him to suit up and get to de-briefing, that his flight status had been reinstated. First there was the success with his lightsaber practice that had left him tired but elated and now he was back with the squad. Excitement bubbled in the pit of his stomach. It was an old feeling, a welcome one: the anticipation before a mission. He had suited up quickly, grabbed his flight harness and helmet and headed for the briefing.

"Hey, Wedge!" he greeted happily, as he placed his helmet on the floor at his feet. "Any idea what we're up against?"

"Nope," Antilles told him. "Something unexpected, though, if they're scraping you off the landing pad and putting you back in the air."

"Ha, ha," Luke answered dryly and, along with all the other pilots, he turned his attention frontward as Commander Narra and General Rieekan entered the room. All chatter faded out as Rieekan addressed them.

"Gentlemen," he activated the holoprojector, wasting no time. "This is our target..."

Luke listened as Rieekan explained the target and the reason for the attack, his stomach churned with anger as the necrosis was described. He leaned forward, head in hands, elbows on his knees as he concentrated. Narra stepped forward to outline the attack strategy, the numbers they would be up against while stressing the importance of success or countless beings in the galaxy would die.

"Shit," Wedge breathed next to him. "These are worse odds than the Death Star."

Luke ignored his friend's pessimism; Wedge often thought the worse before a mission. It was his nature and he partied all the harder after a successful run, amazed to have survived one more day.

"Luke," Narra was addressing him and he sat up straighter. "I want you to take Reds Two and Four, your target is the reactor core." He pointed to the hologram of the facility. "Here at the base, its shielding shouldn't withstand many hits. Once it's down you hit it with a proton torpedo." He grinned at the young pilot. "Just like the Death Star."

"Yessir!" Luke assured him, his blood rushing. This was it. He was back. Now it was his turn again.

Narra nodded. "One more thing, Reds. The command ship is Vader's. He's personally overseeing the development of the Necrosis. We also know he likes to fly, so if you catch him in your cross hairs don't hesitate!"

He paused, adding, "This is will be a tough fight, but we've had tougher. We leave at seventeen hundred hours. Get to you ships."

The pilots rose from their chairs, their moods tempered by determination and a muted, unspoken fear of the future.

Luke sat where he was, numbed by Narra's announcement.

Vader.

"We will speak at length, young one."

He swallowed, thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. The elation he felt just seconds earlier tumbled to thick anxiety in the pit of his belly. He felt sick.

Vader.

That he would be pitted so soon against the Dark Lord hadn't occurred to him. He wasn't ready for this, not yet. What if Vader knew he was there? What if he was shot down again? What if they got a tractor beam on him? What if...

"You are his weakness, Luke, and you have a strength within you that he craves."

It was his aunt's voice from long ago, but he thought he could smell her marave berry biscuits baking for the next morning. He smiled at the memory of the recurring dream. It had come to him during his darkest moments on Escaal when his resolve was failing. His aunt, who had always been there when he had fallen, when he had scrapped a knee or fought with his uncle had supported him once more, had believed in him.

He had connected with the Force that morning, had felt the power surging through him. It made him faster, stronger, guided his movements with the saber. He was no longer hanging beaten and bruised from a steel line, unable to defend himself or fight back. He was whole, healed and healthy. He would be in the cockpit of his X-Wing, while Vader would possibly be in the cockpit of his TIE… if he had the guts to join the fight.

They would be evenly matched and, if the rumours from the Empire were true, then Luke had already beaten him in the trench of the Death Star.

You had help. You had Han

"Luke?" Wedge questioned, concerned. He laid a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Hey, Luke, you with us?"

He drew in a calming breath, grateful for Antilles' presence...

I have help now, too

...and lifted his helmet from the floor. "I'm with you, Wedge," and there was an edge to his voice that Antilles had never heard before, something darker in his friend's eyes. "I'm just looking forward to some pay back."

ooOOoo

To be continued...