AN: I thought I would post this part just to let those who have been asking about it know that I am writing Dark Times. Due to work commitments (and family commitments) updates will probably be sporadic, but I will be continuing all of my incomplete tales.

Many, many thanks to Kazlynh for beta reading and for picking up on a few details. Please check out her fic as she is wonderful - especially all you Wedge fans out there! : )

Also, Blank 101 - this is for you! : )

All Previous disclaimers apply.

Dark Times: Chapter six

Absolute

Part One

The Ambassador's statement stunned Mon Mothma, silenced her. She glanced to Leia, looking for the younger woman's reaction. The Princess had paled, the dark circles of her tired eyes even more stark against her porcelain skin. Leia shook her head in horror at the ex-senator, turned to Rieekan beside her looking for support, but the General appeared just as surprised and speechless at what he had heard.

Mothma muted the connection and stood, turning her back on the small holographic image of the Horaarn Ambassador as she considered his words, his government's latest terms for the diplomatic visit by the Princess Leia. She knew she had scant minutes in which to make her decision as the Horaarn's sensibilities would be offended if she kept him waiting too long and that would only further stress their already tenuous relationship.

"Mon?" Leia asked, also rising. She pleaded with both the leader of the Alliance and the seated General. "Please... You can't do this, you can't send him there. He..."

"He would have you and Captain Solo for support," Mon told her quietly, thinking aloud as she stared out of the window into the dark compound beyond.

"Neither Han, nor I, are qualified in..." Leia tried to argue.

Mothma turned around, her features set, grim. "You heard the Ambassador's terms, there are no negotiations here. Either Lieutenant-Commander Skywalker goes with you and Captain Solo to Horaarn to explain what happened above Cusrean or they withdraw their support and their supplies."

"We can't afford to lose another system, another supply line," Rieekan stated. "We are struggling as it is."

Leia shook her head again. "Even with Luke there they still might withdraw their support if they don't like what they hear." She gestured at the waiting hologram. "Luke can't tell them anymore than I can. That we made a mistake, that the information we had suggested that it was a weapons facility and..."

"The Horaarns know all of this, Leia," Mothma chided, gently, understanding her young friend's concern for the boy who was currently in custody along with his squad mates for attacking Major Rhovan. It would seem that Skywalker's control over his emotions since his capture on Escaal had finally snapped and the question now was what to do with Padme's son.

He had assaulted an officer in the execution of his office during a time of war; an offence that even the Alliance held the death penalty for. She had quickly taken that off the agenda for the boy; to kill an unwell youth was an act worthy of the Empire and not a civilised government. But such an act could not go unpunished even for a celebrity figure such as Skywalker.

She regarded his sister, and smiled, picturing her mother at a similar age near the start of the clone wars. Leia had inherited much from Padme and there were times when she ached to tell the princess of her mother.

"They want to hear from him, Leia," she explained, breaking away from her thoughts. "They want to hear it first hand from the pilot who was there, not from a politician who has the ability to put any spin she chooses on events."

"Mon!" Leia protested, feeling slighted, feeling desperate. Luke was not strong enough for what was being asked of him and had so much still to face. He needed time to heal, time to prepare for his court martial and not have that time used up answering questions from potentially hostile allies.

Mothma waved away her protests. "He has to go, Leia. We need the Horaarn supplies."

"This is wrong, Mon," the Princess's voice shook with rage, her cheeks flushed with anger, "and you know it. Luke isn't strong enough to face an enquiry committee of this kind and..."

"Princess," Rieekan placed a hand on her arm, trying to placate her, calm her. "There is no decision to be made here. The Alliance is more important than one man, even if that man is Luke Skywalker. We serve the systems that back us..."

"The Horaarns supply the Empire, too. The Empire has an outpost there!" Leia bit back with bitterness. "They hide under the canopy of neutrality and make a profit from us both." Although she also knew that the Empire paid a lot more for their supplies and that the Horaans had pledged support and money to the Alliance and to the new republic that they were fighting for.

"They were also Cusrean's closest ally and, as such, have a legitimate complaint that deserves an answer," Mon Mothma told her, her voice tight with fatigue and ire; very aware that time was passing and she still had the ambassador waiting.

"I will have a security detail join you, Princess," Rieekan said. "They will ensure that the Lieutenant-Commander..."

Leia waved him silent. "No, General. That's the last thing Luke needs. No, Han and I will look after him."

"Your Highness, Luke is in custody," Rieekan reminded her. "He requires an escort."

She nodded in assent, her anger was gone, replaced with resignation and purpose. She glanced reproachfully at the tiny hologram. "Please tell the Ambassador that he can expect Luke and myself at the arranged time."

She avoided looking at Mon as she walked from the room.

ooOOoo

"...no..."

"...I knew you'd..."

"...keep your voice down..."

Quick, sharp and angry whispered words pierced his slumber and pulled him toward awareness. Luke lay in the warmth of the bed suspended in the comfort of the state between sleep and full consciousness. He didn't want to move, didn't want to wake, wanted to just fall back into deeper slumber. It reminded him of Tatooine, of the farm, when he would be dragged from his sleep by his aunt and uncle's quiet arguments. The discussions were usually about him, about the latest damage he had caused to the landspeeder, or his T-16, or the fact that he had returned home late and the vaporators he had supposed to have fixed were still malfunctioning because he had snuck away to Tosche Station.

He never did get the units on the south ridge repaired.

"...what the hell are you thinking?..."

"... it's not me!"

"... serving the kid up on a friggin platter!"

That caught his attention and he was instantly awake, anxiety cooling in the pit of his belly. Han sounded furious, Leia sounded defensive and just as angry.

"It's not like that!" she whispered, tightly.

"It's exactly like that!" Solo growled back. "He's only just getting his head screwed back on and you lot are throwing him to the nexu!"

"That's unfair!"

"That's the truth!"

"What's the truth?" Luke asked quietly, his eyes still closed, his head still on the pillow.

"Shit," he heard Solo swear and he smiled in response.

"Luke," Leia tentatively started and he winced inwardly at the tone of her voice, not liking the fact that she felt had to tiptoe around him. "The Horaarns have asked..."

"Demanded," Han corrected.

"... that you attend with the Alliance delegation to give evidence at a hearing into the battle of Cusrean."

Luke opened his eyes at this, saw the corrugated ceiling of the holding cell above him, felt the throb of his cut cheek and remembered the events of the previous evening. He'd lost it. He had seen the broadcast on the holonet of the aftermath of the battle, had seen the images of what he had done – the debris and the dead.

He had been filled with guilt, with rage and had sought out the one person that he had blamed for it all.

Rhovan.

And now he was locked up with Han - who had broken the Major's nose - while he waited for his court-martial.

But it wasn't Rhovan's fault. It was his. Everything that had happened since he had been shot down over Escaal had been down to decisions and choices he had made.

He had decided to go planet side at Escaal.

He had disobeyed orders at Ra'imar.

He had decided to shoot at Cusrean when all his senses told him not too.

It was time to take responsibility and not blame others for his actions.

He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and yawned, winced as the cut on his face protested. He wiped sleep from his eyes and glanced up at his friends. Leia was standing outside the ray shielding watching him with some concern. Han was lounging against the cell wall, a few inches away from the shield that separated the cell from the corridor.

"The other guys away?" he asked, referring to his squad mates who were in as much trouble as he was.

"Patrol left an hour ago," Han told him, shooting a glance at Leia.

"Luke," Leia started again. "Did you hear..."

"I heard," he told her softly. "I've to give evidence on Horaarn. When do we leave?"

"Now," solo told him watching him closely. The kid had seemed at peace earlier, had seemed as though he was coming to terms with everything he had been through since Escaal and his capture and he was concerned that this latest development might just send him spiralling back into the depression and despair that he had been leaving behind.

"Are you coming?" Luke asked, recalling their conversation from last night.

"Yeah, the Falcon's her holier-than-thou-highness's consular ship and me and Chewie are her..."

"It's just us, Luke," Leia told Luke quickly, cutting Solo off mid sentence feeling her ire grow, but determined not to allow the Corellian to get the better of her. "You, me and Han and Chewbacca."

"Don't forget his escort," Solo reminded her sourly.

Amused, Luke smiled again, the movement tugging on the cut. "I get an escort?"

"With guns," Han told him, a grin tugging on his own lips.

Leia sighed and explained. "You're still in custody, Luke, it's procedure."

"It's so you don't run away," Han told him, sarcasm biting.

"Don't you get an escort?" Luke wanted to know. "You're locked up, too."

"Nah, I'm being released on the understanding that I don't frig off and leave her highness cooling her heels on Horaarn. If I do, I don't get paid." Han explained although his tone indicated that the thought had crossed his mind and Luke had the feeling that Han might try to persuade him to do likewise regardless of the escort.

He stood up, approached the shield as the hum of energy crackled and spat before dying away leaving the doorway open. He stepped out and stopped as he spotted two Alliance ground troopers waiting a little farther up the corridor.

He grinned in surprise at Thecla, warmed by her presence, her smile and nod of greeting, and then he cooled as the taller soldier turned around. "Shit," he breathed.

It was Haslam: the soldier who had wanted to leave him on Ra'imar, who had shown nothing but distrust and disdain for him.

Leia slipped her arm through his, explaining, "Rieekan thought it would help if it was someone you knew."

"I'll have to thank the General," he muttered dryly as the soldier narrowed his eyes at him with unhidden scorn. Haslam had believed Luke when he had said he had given Ra'imars position to the Empire and, despite everything that had happened since, it seemed that this belief remained.

Han bent down, whispered in his ear. "If the big guy gives you any grief I'll get Chewie to sit on him again."

Luke smiled at that as the two troopers fell in behind Leia, Han and himself, enjoying the mental image of Chewbacca sitting on top of the large infantry man and looking forward to the trip in the Falcon even though the destination might prove to be demanding and the questions asked of him difficult to answer.

ooOOoo

Major Erwin Rhovan woke slowly, fighting against the drowsy effects of the painkillers that the medical droid had insisted he take. He turned in bed, burying his face into the pillow but immediately pulled away as pain sliced through his nose and forehead. He gingerly felt his face, forced open still swollen and bruised eyes and saw the sunlight filtering through the window, felt the ground lightly shudder as the volcano rumbled.

He could hear people and vehicles moving around outside and the day felt late. He glanced at his chrono and immediately sat up. It was late afternoon and, despite being relieved of duty for a few days while his nose healed, he had fully intended on checking through the data from last night.

Vader.

Vader was heading somewhere.

Cusrean.

Something about Cusrean.

Throwing the coverlet aside, Rhovan swung his legs off the cot, standing and reaching for his fatigue pants, drawing them on before heading for the fresher. He splashed his face with water, avoiding the mirror, knowing that all he would see was swelling and bruising around the bacta dressing the droid had applied the previous evening.

He dried his face, gently, with the towel, dropping it back over the rail beside the sink, his attention caught by the packet of painkillers sitting on the shelf above. He stared at them for a few minutes, reticent to take them. They would dull his senses, they would fog his brain.

Finally, he pocketed them. At least he'd have them if the pain got too much…

He finished dressing, pulling on his boots before leaving his quarters heading straight for the command centre and his station in Intelligence Operations.

Before Skywalker had thrown his punch, before all hell had broken loose in the Intel Ops room he had been looking at star maps, had been trying to figure out where Vader had been heading. Something had occurred to him, something had connected in his mind about the Dark Lord's next move. But it had been lost in the following events, tenuous links in his memory fractured by the few fraught moments of Skywalker's attack.

Something about Vader…

He ignored the curious glances of others as he crossed the compound but he was aware of them, just as he was aware that the tale of last night's events had already made its way around the base and back again. He smiled, winced and touched the top of his nose; he also had no doubt that, despite being the victim, that he would be the villain of the story.

Not that it concerned him.

The Holonet had broadcast pictures and images of the aftermath of the Cusrean attack, had named Skywalker as the suspect and increased the bounty on his head. It had shown the death toll, the twisted and blacked bodies of those killed in the Rebel assault. The footage was filmed from the bridge of a Star Destroyer... No... not just any Star Destroyer.

The Executor.

Vader's ship.

Then it was reported to have left the system, its destination unknown.

Rhovan rubbed at his chin, glancing up the mountain side at the roar of engines, watching the base's remaining X-Wings descend from the low cloud cover. Once they had landed and been debriefed, the pilots would be escorted back to the holding cells; punishment for helping Skywalker the previous evening…

Skywalker…

He hoped that Command would deal with the boy quickly. The last thing Luke needed was an extended spell in the cells and a long, drawn-out hearing. It was going to be difficult enough for the pilot to face a court-martial, but he was going to have to do it without the support of his closest friends as the Princess Organa and Captain Solo would be on their way to Horaarn by now and...

Horaarn…

"Shit!"

He rushed through the doorway of the HQ, running through the building, pushing past personnel, in his urgency to get to the comms room. He took the stairs four at a time, using the railing to propel him further as he climbed to the tower.

He almost fell into the room, barking, "Raise Solo, now! Bring that ship back!" at the nearest controller as he examined the scan screen showing the traffic in the system.

"Sir, I..." the man stammered.

"Now, Godsdammit!"

"Sir, The Falcon left hours ago. Any message we send now won't reach them until..."

"Use the subspace comms," Rhovan ordered, frustrated and angry with himself for sleeping so long, for allowing the incident the previous evening to affect his memory and judgement. He had been trained better than this.

"I'm sorry, sir," the comms controller told him. "Only High Command has the authority for subspace and..."

"Shit!" Rhovan breathed angrily, turning away and leaving the room. He ran back down the stairs and along the corridors in the opposite direction, heading for Mon Mothma's chambers. He ignored the outer desks and the personnel seated there, he ignored the shouts of "sir, you can't go in there!" as he burst through the door of Mon Mothma's office.

Heads rose from conversation as the doors opened. Mon Mothma rose from behind her desk.

"Major Rhovan?"

"You need to call the Falcon back!" Rhovan told her ignoring Reekan, Anders and S'adaan. "Horaarn is compromised."

"And you know this how?" Mothna said, sitting down again, concern tightened her tone as she glanced at Rhovan's superior officer in Intelligence. Ehlen Anders shook her head, showing her confusion and ignorance of the Major's claims.

"Last night I was trying to track the Executor," Rhovan explained, quickly. "It abruptly left orbit at Cusrean and its route and destination was unknown. Using the star maps and hyperspace routes, I highlighted likely systems and the most likely seemed to be Horaarn. Before I could pursue this any further I was... interrupted."

Anders suppressed her smile at this, knowing what the Major was referring too. The Major's injuries looked painful and Anders almost wished she had been on duty the previous evening to see Skywalker and Solo land their punches.

"Have you been able to pursue it today?" Mothma wanted to know.

Rhovan licked his lips, uncharacteristically tense and nervous. "No, Ma'am. I have been indisposed."

"Then how do you know that Horaarn has been compromised?" Mothma asked again.

"I don't," Rhovan stated, truthfully. "But, it seemed the most credible of destinations for the Executor given the close ties that the Horaarn people have with Cusrean. It may be that the Empire wanted to assure the Haoraans that they were pursuing the perpetrators."

Mothma closed her eyes in horror as cold understanding and comprehension crawled over her. She may have just sent the Princess Organa and Skywalker into their father's clutches. "Can you all please clear the room," she ordered softly. "Major Rhovan you will stay."

"Milady!" Rieekan protested. "If the Princess's mission is..."

"Now, General!" Mothma told him, leaving no opening for debate.

Both she and Rhovan waited in silence as the others reluctantly left the room. Anders glanced at him, but Rhovan ignored her. If she was as good as Mothma thought, she would be able to piece together his assumptions and confirm them when she went back to Ops.

"I sent Skywalker with her," Mothma told him softly once they were alone.

Rhovan chilled. "What?" he rasped, the sharp burst of anger pushing him forward a step before he checked himself, pulling back from his ire. "With all due respect, Mi'lady," he asked coolly, "why was I not informed. Skywalker is my responsibility I should have been consulted."

Mothma glanced at him, wiped at her eyes, feeling the fatigue and the strain of the last few days. She'd had little sleep, had had to negotiate and beg with angry and appalled system governments, many of whom had been friends and colleagues in the Senate. "There was little time," she explained. "The Horaarn Ambassador only contacted me less than an hour before the Princess was due to depart. They..." she struggled to find the right word, "...asked... that Skywalker was sent to explain his part in the attack. They threatened to withdraw their support if we didn't comply."

Rhovan understood immediately. Since the destruction of Alderaan, which had all but wiped out the vast wealth of the Organas, Horaarn had supplied the greatest financial support to the Alliance. The majority of the food stuffs also came from there. The loss of their support would have major consequences.

He leaned over her desk. "Did it occur to you that they might also have invited the Empire?"

"Of course it did!" she defended, a blush warming her cheeks with anger. How dare he question her like this.

"I am not a fool, Major!"

She stood again, drawing herself to her full height, not allowing him to tower over her. "The Horaarns have assured us that they only wish to have an opportunity to view our data for themselves and to speak to the pilot responsible. They want to understand why we made the decision to attack. There was to be no Imperial presence."

"And the outpost the Empire have there?"

Mothma sighed. "It is a fuelling station, a communications array with minimal staffing. Horrarn is a neutral system."

"It is hardly neutral when it backs us," Rhovan pointed out. "How long do you think it would take the Empire to add the system to its territory if it learned that Luke Skywalker was there?"

"I hardly think the Empire would spent vast amounts of time and effort invading a system for the sake of one man," Mon scoffed, though a spike of anxiety twisted in her belly.

"They spent time and effort tearing Escaal apart looking for him! They followed us to Ra'imar and spent more time and effort razing the base there! They spent time and effort at Cusrean to bait a trap for us. Do you really think they don't know that Horaarn backs the Alliance?"

"I'm sure they have known since the beginning of the Rebellion, Major," Mon agreed, "but they have no grounds to..."

She stopped as she realised what she had just said.

She sat down again, falling into her chair and Rhovan watched as all the pieces fell into place. Cusrean wasn't just about discrediting and corrupting the name of the Alliance and making them out to be heartless terrorists who targeted the most vulnerable; it wasn't just about turning allies against them and taking backing and funding away from them…

It was about Anakin Skywalker's son.

"Vader has gone to Horaarn," Rhovan told her. "I know he has."

Mothma opened her comm. "Send a subspace message to the Millennium Falcon. Authorisation code Leth – Usk – one – six – three – Aurek. They are to abandon the mission and return immediately."

The loss of the Horaarns would be painful to the Alliance. It would drastically reduce their basic food and clothing supplies. It would affect weapons purchases and star ship repairs… But better that than allowing Darth Vader to be re-united with the boy he knew was his son, and risk him discovering that Leia was Luke's sister...

"Mi'lady," a comms operator responded. "They will have reached the Horaarn sector by now and..."

"Send it," she ordered, sharply.

"Yes, mi'lady."

They waited in silence, minutes dragging passed. Rhovan pulled up a chair and sat down, his eyes alternating between Mon Mothma and the comms unit. He licked his lips, winced against the pain from the middle of his face and slipped his hand into his pocket and tapped the packet of analgesics as though by just touching them he could ward off the headache he felt descending.

He needing a Caffin.

The comm. crackled and they both stiffened as the operator reported, "We have been unable to raise the Millennium Falcon, mi'lady."

Rhovan stood, pulled his jacket straight. "Send me in."

Mothma shook her head, trying to think. "Out of the question, Major. The Horaarn's baulked at the escort we requested to send with Skywalker."

"This isn't about the Horaarns anymore, mi'lady," Rhovan countered, "this is damage control. If Skywalker and the Princess have been taken, you stand to lose a lot more than just them, than this base. You stand to lose the war."

She was silent, still.

"Lady Mothma, you have to send me in."

She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time, as though just recognising the man standing before her desk. She glanced at his hands feeling cold horror wash over her as she realised what those hands had done in the past, what the man had done and was more than capable of doing again.

She swallowed. "Go," she said. "Do what you have to."

ooOOoo

tbc...