Equally Cursed and Blessed
by Mina
36/.
This day was cursed. With each hour that passed, yet another problem reared its head. They were haemorrhaging possibilities, loosing good men. Piett, perhaps. Calrissian too. Every solution was scuppered, every heroic act undone by the next problem that came along on its heels. Only the rush to get off the Executor, the march through the darkened corridors, kept Vader's frustration in check.
Chaos take this day and its impossibilities! Was it so much to ask of the Force that his son should come through this unscathed? What possible purpose could the boy's death serve for the galaxy? Why did the Force so desperately want to take Luke from him?
But even as Vader thought that last, bitter thought, he recognised his anger for the trap it was. There was no solution to be found in his shaking a fist at fate for turning the tables against them. What could Vader hope to accomplish even if, with all his power, he were to reach out and shake the stars for daring to defy his will? Nothing at all: that path would lead him full circle, back to where he'd first lost faith in the people he was trying to save.
Vader stretched out again with the Force, to touch the makeup of the fight continuing beyond Executor's hull, the lives battling for survival across the hundreds, thousands of kilometres covered by the battle. But the Force surged with the upheaval of the fight. The death, the anger, the terror. It clouded the future. And Vader could feel neither Luke's presence nor Palpatine's. They were... hidden from him.
The wookiee had stopped beside an airlock. He growled something, and Vader frowned, drawing on the Force to attempt to translate the speech. It had been many years since he had last had occasion to translate wookiee-speak. The wookiee growled again, impatiently. /We are here/ he said, lowering Piett's semi-unconscious body to the floor. /The airlock is not fully sealed. We will need to retrieve another flight-suit./
Vader balled his fist in irritation.
"Quickly then," he snapped.
"I hate feeling this useless," Reeikan muttered, from where he stood behind Mon's seat.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "That sentiment is mutual," she said.
Through the viewport, the battle raged at a distance and the command channel chattered with orders. It had moved further away from them, away from the wreck of the Executor as their enemy turned upon the interdictor ships in an attempt to free themselves an escape route. But the combined Rebel and Imperial forces kept them encircled within the battle area, denying them any chance at simply running far enough and fast enough to escape the interdictors' influence.
"If we could only assist the Executor-"
A loud burst of electronic chatter interrupted Reeikan and they both turned as an astromech scooted into the room at full throttle. Mon raised her eyebrows at the entrance, just as a guard appeared in the doorway, clearly out of breath.
"Sorry, ma'am. He won't stay put."
The droid let out shrill beeping sound at that. His dome twisted left, then right, and he motored to a console and plugged himself in.
The image on the forward viewscreen went black, blocking out their view of the battle.
"Hey!" Reeikan said, heading to stop the droid. "What do you-"
Words scrolled across the black screen, punctuated by the droid's electronic voice bleeping at them.
I have the virus.
"What?" Mon said, standing abruptly. "What virus?"
The droid beeped irritably.
The one the Executor is infected with.
Mon turned to Reeikan. "If we can decode that and reverse it-"
"We don't have the expertise here," Reeikan said.
Someone coughed behind them. They both turned. One of the Imperial spies Vader had sent back with Commander Skywalker held his hand up. The one who had pretended to be a medic.
"Hi," he said, "remember us? We could be of some use here."
Mon frowned at them.
The medic grinned. "I'm not actually trained as a medic, you know." He nodded to his counterpart. "And he's not much of a pilot." The 'pilot' snorted at that and rolled his eyes. "But Intelligence Corps training on decryption and slicing? Oh yeah, we've done that."
It hadn't occurred to Vader before he'd stepped aboard, to wonder what ship Calrissian and the wookiee had used to dock with the Executor. But as Chewbacca lumbered past him, recognition came. How ironic, to be rescued by the ship he had spent a great part of the last three years chasing.
/The medical bunk is to the aft/ Chewbacca said, disappearing down the curve of the Millennium Falcon's corridor. /I will decouple the ship./
Vader turned in the direction indicated, Piett balanced over his shoulder.
The Force sparkled with ghosts, with its memories of his children aboard this ship. The air was threaded with the potent emotions the crew had experienced walking these deckplates.
Fear.
Determination.
Passion.
Grief.
Relief.
Pain.
He entered the crew quarters, lowered Piett to the medical bunk, which clicked and buzzed as it sprang into life and began assessing the admiral's injuries.
Pain.
Luke's pain - the last person to lay here had been his son. Just for a moment, Piett was gone and Luke was in his place, his body curled protectively over the stump of his mutilated arm.
As quickly as it had come, the illusion was gone. Something tight and constricting had knotted in Vader's gut. His hands worked methodically to strap Piett into the bunk and attach the sensors, set the system, but the knot remained.
The ship lurched, breaking Vader's concentration. There was no time for this melancholy. It served no purpose, other than to slow them down.
/The Falcon is decoupled/ the wookiee barked over the ship-wide comm. /I am in need of a co-pilot./
"This is Princess Organa, in command of the combined Rebel Alliance and Executor fleet. State your terms of surrender," Leia said, drawing on all her years of diplomatic training to keep her voice steady. The connection was audio only - which was just as well, because she wasn't sure how well she could have hidden the desperate hope from her face.
There was a few seconds delay before the reply came back. "Princess Organa, what a pleasure. I expected an admiral or a general - but royalty? How delightful. "
Leia allowed herself a second's pause to bite back the instinctive scathing reply. "Prince Xizor, I assume," she said. "Where is the Emperor?"
"He is... indisposed," Xizor answered smoothly. "I am in charge now. And it isn't a surrender I'm petitioning - more of a... trade-off."
"I will pilot," Vader stated as he entered the Millennium Falcon's cockpit. The wookiee turned from flicking switches on the low ceiling to level a doubtful glare at Vader. "I am familiar with the YT-series." Vader snapped impatiently.
Chewbacca remained unmoved, blocking Vader's path to the pilot seat, eyeing him up and down.
Vader sighed. "We are wasting time," he said, an edge of anger in his voice. The wookiee didn't look the least bit phased by the warning tone. His gaze continued to assess Vader for another heartbeat, before he turned and dropped into the co-pilot's seat.
More than his brief resistance had, the acquiescence gave Vader pause. Chewbacca glanced back at him.
/Hurry, then, if you wish to save your cub/ he said.
"Falcon, do you copy?" Leia said into the pick-up, pacing as she spoke.
"Go ahead." Vader's voice. Leia glanced at the tactical screen. The small icon representing the Falcon began a fast climb away from Executor's surface.
"We have some new developments," she said, unable to keep the tension from her voice. "Xizor has made contact."
The sound of Vader's respirator filled the empty comm air. Then he said sharply, "He is not to be trusted."
She smiled ruefully. "I'd already figured that part out. But he's proposing a truce. He'll give us Luke and the Emperor, if we let his fleet leave unmolested." She paused. "Luke believes him."
"You spoke to Luke?"
"No... but he was there and he wasn't fighting the plan."
On the forward viewscreen, the Falcon could be seen striking out across space towards the heat of the battle. It was still an even fight: both sides were losing by attrition, but had suffered no major losses. The attempts to attack the interdictors were contained, for now. Either side could win... or lose.
"He's proposing that Luke takes a shuttle out from their cruiser, after we've pulled our fighters back. He's made a concession on the interdictors - they go once Luke is clear." Leia wetted her lips. "I need to give him an answer," she said. And yes, technically Vader had given her command, but she wasn't sure whether she could trust this wild hope for a solution where, just this once, everybody lived.
"Xizor is not to be trusted," Vader repeated and Leia rolled her eyes at the reiteration. That just wasn't helpful. "But we may have to trust in his drive for self-preservation. Pull the fleet back to protect the interdictors, in case he attempts to run."
They were already moving for the docking bay when Xizor's comlink buzzed. He snapped it from his belt. "Well?"
"Princess Organa has confirmed Darth Vader's agreement to the deal, my Prince. She has begun ordering the withdrawal of fighters."
Xizor looked at Luke with a curious light in his eyes. "It seems you were right," he acknowledged. Then, into the comlink, "Order our fighters to permit their withdrawal. Don't provoke them. Inform Organa that we are on our way to the aft docking bay." He cut the connection.
A small part of Luke had wondered what would happen if Vader didn't trust Xizor and rejected the deal. But Leia had sounded composed, level-headed. It was a reminder that he was hardly alone out here, no matter what happened next. There was something calming about knowing she was out there fighting.
Xizor's glanced at him. "I'm sure your father will be fuming at losing," he said.
Luke frowned. "Losing?"
"As long as I live, he hasn't won."
Luke didn't bother to contest that. Right now, winning and losing seemed unimportant next to living and dying.
They reached the docking bay doors within minutes. Part of Luke had anticipated a fire-fight when they reached the docking bay, given the stormtroopers he'd seen there not that long ago and the fact the guards were shouldering an unconscious Palpatine. But the troopers were nowhere to be seen, and the group carried on towards an Imperial shuttle sitting near the exit to open space, the Imperial crest tattooed on its closed wings.
"Hurry up," Xizor said, moving to the head of the group. The two guards carrying the unconscious Emperor grunted as they forced themselves to move quicker. Luke's feet didn't need any encouragement.
Once aboard the shuttle, it was clear that this was no ordinary military transport. The corridor was decorated in Imperial red. The seating area at the rear of the cockpit was filled with comfortable, form-fitting chairs and individual holo-screens. A row of Royal Guard force-pikes lined the arsenal racks instead of blasters or ammunition.
"This is Palpatine's personal ship?" Luke asked, although it wasn't really a question.
Xizor glanced at him but didn't respond with more than an unsettling smile.
The guards dropped Palpatine into a passenger chair, well away from the controls, and began securing him to it with duct tape.
Luke watched the process with a growing sense of deja vu. Hadn't it been just weeks ago that he'd been in the reverse position to this, with the Imperial governor as his captor and no Emperor along for the ride?
Xizor paced impatiently. "Quickly. Then put the ysalamiri in the back compartment. I will disarm the ship." He pulled his blaster from somewhere inside his robe and pointed it at the console.
"No, wait -" Luke started to say, but too late: the bolt hit the console and the board exploded, leaving behind only melted plastisteel where the weapons systems had sat seconds earlier. "You didn't have to do that." Luke sighed.
Xizor pinned him with a feral glare. "And let you loose in this hanger with an armed ship? I think not."
Luke shook his head. "I'm not interested in attacking you," he said. "And you don't need to leave the ysalamiri. As long as Palpatine is unconscious, I can deal with him."
Xizor ignored him.
The Lambda-class shuttle made a swift exit from the aft docking bay, streaking at speed away from the Black Sun ship. The surrounding TIE fighters - enemies and allies alike - scattered to clear a path for it. The shuttle shot through the opening at a speed that bordered on reckless.
Vader moved to trigger the comm. "Luke?"
For a few seconds there was no answer, and Vader glanced at his wookiee co-pilot. Chewbacca shrugged and growled softly. Impatience rattled through Vader, and he wanted to demand an answer from the shuttle. Days, weeks had passed since he'd sent Luke off with the Rebels - but the last few seconds were the most frustrating by far.
Then the boy's voice answered him.
"... you there? I'm still figuring out these controls."
"You appeared to find the accelerator easily enough," Vader replied, his heart lightened by the levity in his son's voice. Chewbacca laughed softly.
"Force of habit," Luke responded. Vader watched the shuttle perform a roll-and-drop through an array of fighters. "I think I've figured the manoeuvring thrusters out now, too."
Vader smiled, though it stretched the scar tissue on his face painfully. If the boy's sense of fun was intact, then there was hope. "Are you well?"
"I'm fine," Luke replied quickly. "I've got cargo, though - some sort of creature that blocks the Force. And my passenger is still unconscious."
Vader nodded to himself. At least that would keep Palpatine manageable. Without the Force he was just a malicious old man.
"Good." It was too small a word for the relief throttling through his body, but it would do. At least ten different possible questions ran through his mind, warring for priority.
"Is that you in the Falcon?"
Chewbacca answered that one. /Never fear, little one. He is not unsupervised./
Consternation at the joke at his expense rippled through Vader, but Luke's laugh quickly doused it. He had the strangest sensation, just for a moment, of a camaraderie that had been all but missing from his life for over twenty years. His hands tightened on the ship's controls.
"My Lord, the Black Sun ship is recalling her fighters and preparing to jump," someone interjected over Vader's private comm. Captain Jossel. "Princess Organa has instructed that they be allowed to leave." He sounded more than a little uncertain of where his duty lay.
Apparently the transmission had carried over the Falcon's comm. "Let them go," Luke said, before Vader could respond. "I gave Xizor my word."
Silently, Vader fought against the demon inside that wanted to order them to attack the ship.
"Father..." Luke said, a tremor of worry in his voice.
"Instruct the interdictors to stand down, Captain. Allow the ship and her fighters to leave."
He was aware of the wookiee's intense regard, but he ignored it.
"Yes, my Lord," the Imperial officer replied, and the comm clicked shut. Had the respirator allowed it, Vader would have let out a sigh - though whether it would be one of relief or regret, he wasn't sure. He hoped this mercy was not a weakness he would later regret. He hoped it really could turn out to be this simple.
Luke's shuttle flew in a long, graceful arc through the fighters and turned to face the Falcon. "Do you have somewhere I can land this thing?" he said. "Before my passenger wakes up."
Vader checked the Falcon's scopes - there was a star destroyer close to them, and it was well-equipped to deal with a Sith Lord prisoner. Except... except that it might not be a wise idea to take Palpatine there. Luke was prudent to conceal the identity of his 'passenger' over the comm. Thus far, Vader's fleet remained unaware that they were fighting the Emperor, and now was not the time to let them know. But the Battalion and the handful of other Rebel ships were out of the question: they were not nearly as well equipped for handling such a high-risk prisoner.
"Father?"
The third option was the abandoned Rebel base on the planet below. The mining station that Rebel's had converted into their latest shelter should still be operational: it was designed to run automatically, with or without the skeleton crew it would have had during its mining days. The system should allow Luke to dock and Palpatine could be dealt with away from any further... distractions.
"Take her down to the empty Rebel base," Vader finally answered. "The automated docking procedure should still be operational. We will follow you down and help your passenger to... disembark."
A thrill ran through him at the thought of that. Not a feeling he should welcome, that one. A bloodlust that threatened to be overwhelming if he wasn't careful. But... he would be careful.
Leia's eyes flickered to the scopes, tracking the movement of the shuttle even as she tried to concentrate on her conversation with Mon Mothma. She ached to call her brother, but something in Mon's expression wouldn't allow her to dismiss the woman's call.
"Leia," she said, "if we can get this wyrm into the Executor's system, it might re-write the virus and restore some of the fail-safes."
Leia nodded, tearing her gaze from the scopes. "What do you need?" she said.
Mon smiled. "To get our tech men aboard with Artoo Detoo. We're coming back in to dock with Executor."
Leia frowned. "Your tech men? I thought all the tech crew had jumped with the transports."
Mon smiled conspiratorially. "They're not exactly our tech men."
"What-"
"Ma'am," someone interjected her - the communications ensign. "Confirmation from Captain Jossel. All enemy ships have made the jump to hyperspace."
Leia nodded thanks for the information. At least that was one problem solved. Now for the rest.
She turned back to Mon Mothma. "Make sure one of your tech men can relieve Lando. He's been at the centre of the heat for fifteen minutes now." She paused, allowing - just for a brief second - the worry she felt to show. "He's too busy to check in... at least, we hope that's what's happening. The temperature remains stable, for now."
The seriousness of Mon Mothma's expression showed her concern at that news. "They should be aboard in under five minutes."
Leia smiled, knowing it wouldn't reach her eyes. "Good luck. I'm recalling all Rebel ships - we're going to need those medical frigates back here."
"We'll keep you updated." Mothma signed off.
Leia leaned back from the pick-up and folded her arms over her chest. Maybe, just maybe, if the Force was done with throwing problems at them, things could start to get a little simpler now.