Chapter 57 - Honestly, He Tries

A few transition scenes and a little father-son fluff, trying to keep it light because we all have too much RL right now.

OooOoo

The swordmaster arrived a few days later. He was a Zabrak, and his demeanor was proud, his height tall, his appearance imposing. He had a lot of horns around his head and the hair that cascaded down his back was long and purple, which gave him extra points in Luke's estimation. Five others signed up to take his class, all of them from night shift. No one else from day squads because, as Janson pointed out, 0545 was far too early to be so active, and Luke would have agreed if he'd had a choice. But with no other dad-approved option, here he was in a windowless room that had been closed up all night, with a single fan that did nothing but blow hot air around.

There were only sticks on the rack, not swords. Luke picked one that was as tall as he was. Wordlessly, Kodra took it from him and handed him one that was half the length. Luke looked sideways at him but kept his mouth shut.

"First form. Blocking."

Evidently there would be no introductions or explanations. The six of them followed along, some a little awkwardly. One young man laughed at his own ineptness and the Zabrak said:

"Out."

"What?" the youth, whom Luke recognized as a Green pilot, stopped.

"I will not waste my time. You must be the most serious for me to teach."

"But…" The pilot was prepared to argue, but Kodra quelled his words with a single stare and pointed his staff at the door. The pilot threw down his stick and stormed out.

Kodra looked at the remaining five. "Beginning tomorrow class is 0500. Hand-to-hand combat is 0600. Be here early if you intend to participate. Barefoot."

Oh great. A few people looked dismayed but Luke nodded once and Kodra glanced at him. Did the instructor know that he was the reason for the classes? At least… Luke assumed he was the reason.

"First form, begin again. No." Kodra scowled at them. "Your sword is your life. Keep it at your attention."

Your lightsaber is your life. Luke would have smiled, but decided he didn't dare. He wiped the sweat from his face and honed his focus to a knife-like vision of his staff and the position of his feet, allowing the Force to guide him as they went through the movements.

Kodra stalked behind them, around them, correcting the smallest of motions. When he reached Luke, he said under his breath, "No Force. Just you."

Surprised, he inhaled and swallowed a protest. He struggled to separate himself from the Force and immediately felt incredibly clumsy.

This was not going to be as easy as he'd expected.

OooOoo

He ran to grab something for breakfast before his shift began. "What is this?" he asked the canteen worker.

"Woolamander. One of the guards got a whole family of them last night. Pretty tasty. Hard to skin them though."

Briefly he considered becoming a vegetarian. He remembered a description of the small creatures from his tape as being cute in an ugly way. Oh, well, it was filling. Maybe woolamanders would be good to practice on before he asked for human body parts.

"You're late," Boss said at the hangar entry.

"I had to eat something! I've been at fencing class. And starting tomorrow the classes are 0500 to 0700. I have to eat!" He wiped the grease from his fingers onto his shirt. "Can I push back my shift by thirty minutes?"

The commander studied him. Luke thought his hair was grayer than it had been when he'd arrived. "All right," he allowed, "as long as you don't neglect your duties."

"I won't!" Luke hesitated. "Did you get a chance to—"

"Not yet. Get to work."

"I'm getting, I'm getting!" He checked the list and headed for… oh, krit, a snub. He hated working on those, they were so awkward. He passed a transport and saw Tadeo.

"Hey, kid," he called. "I thought you're supposed to be working on Reds."

"Um… they're sharing me. So I'm helping my brother."

"Yeah? Where is he?"

Tadeo gestured vaguely. "Over there somewhere."

"OZ!" Boss shouted.

"All right! Sith!" He gave Tadeo a conspiratorial smile and continued to the snub. He could sense nothing dangerous from the other, but he'd keep an eye on him.

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The woolamanders looked too intelligent. Plus, they seemed to be in a family unit. Luke wandered deeper into the jungle looking for a lone animal. He saw a few birds in the tree canopy, but they were too pretty to blow up.

Then he nearly stumbled over a huge, hideous blob draped across a rock at the edge of a pool of muddy water. It had tentacles that extended into the water.

"Ugh." It paid no attention to him so he focused inside it, which turned out to be a repulsive task. Okay, it was more than a single organism but it still wasn't much of a challenge. But he could make it a challenge by taking his time and exploring its neural network and finding multiple ways to blow it apart— oh, no, please, dissolve it. He wanted no repetition of the snake on Dagobah. He probed carefully, found the right point and pushed.

It exploded and splattered across his jumpsuit.

"Aaagh! Did you see that?"

Luke turned to Janson. "Are you following me?"

"Yes." The other looked at his clothes. "It's all over you. That's so disgusting. Yuck. Let's go back."

"Okay." He rather stay and try again with something else. Maybe the problem was that he'd only tried with slimy creatures. He'd have to do a woolamander. At least they were furry. "Why were you following me?"

"I saw you wander off and figured you might get into trouble, because trouble seems to follow you."

"Truer than you know." Luke nodded. "Well, good thing you didn't get too close or you'd have this all over you too."

"Yeah." Janson ducked under a branch and glanced at him as they made their way back toward the base. "I don't know why you do the things you do. We have a perfectly fine barracks. You should stay in it and not go exploring."

"Yeah," he admitted ruefully. "That might be better."

"Heard anything about the whole pilot-enlisting thing?"

"No. Guess they haven't decided."

"Yeah. Well, don't be in a rush." Janson grinned. "I feel safer knowing you're the one working on my X. Which reminds me, if you become a pilot and die, can I have your clothes?"

"Yes," Luke said wearily. "If I die under any circumstances, you may have them."

"Great!" Janson said happily, then caught himself. "I mean… maybe I can borrow some while you're still alive?"

Luke sighed.

Janson stopped outside Red barracks. "You know… that smells really bad."

"Trust me, I know."

"Well… maybe you shouldn't go inside. I'll get you a jumpsuit and we can go to Laundry. They have a shower there too."

Luke sent him a questioning look. "Why would I—"

"It's in your hair."

"Noooo—"

"And I think there's some on your face."

"Krit! Get it off me!"

"Don't touch it." Janson swatted his hands away. "You'll smear it. Wait here while I get clothes for you."

"Fine!" This was so disgusting. Why why why did gross things have to happen to him? He began to fold his arms, then thought better of it and held them away from his body. The goop was probably all over him, and he was thankful it was dark so no one would—

"Hey, come and see what happened to Oz!" Janson called as he flung open the barracks door.

Well, great, just great. He clenched his teeth and glared as pilots shoved into the doorway. "Stars, you stink!" someone said, and far too many people laughed.

"What is that stuff?"

"He was out in the jungle again and a giant blob threw up on him. I was there and saw it and made him come back," Janson added importantly. "It was really gross. Hey, Wedge, grab one of his jumpsuits, will you?"

"You're not coming in here," Zev commanded.

"Laundry," Luke muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Laundry! Laundry! I'm going to the Laundry!"

"I just wanted to show him off before we go." Janson was grinning like a loth-cat. "Isn't this the most disgusting mess you've ever seen? And such a shame, after he got so prettied up. Aww…."

Luke stomped away.

"Do you want underwear too?" Wedge called. "Do you think it soaked through?"

"No! And I am never speaking to any of you again," he threatened.

"Please," Janson said, hurrying to catch up with him. "Of course you will. You can't stop yourself from talking."

Which was almost word-for-word what his father had once said. Luke was thankful Vader wasn't around to witness this scene.

I am just pleased that I can't smell it, his father said, and Luke shook his head, pretending he hadn't heard.

He snatched the jumpsuit from Janson and trotted ahead to the Laundry, thankful that at least he'd gone commando today.

OooOoo

He wasn't anxious to hurry back and be teased even more. Plus, he was smarting from his lack of grace in the fencing class. The small practice room was dark and empty, so he switched on the lights and grabbed one of the shorter sticks. Surrendering to the Force, he went through the maneuvers, watching himself in the clouded steel mirrors. It was too easy this way— for the instructor anyway, if not for him. What was the point of having his powers if he couldn't use them? But he tuned them out and practiced on his own, trying to replicate the steps and motions that came so naturally with the Force.

He looked— well, not exactly clumsy, but definitely not as smooth and graceful when he did it on his own. There is no try. So he went through the paces over and over until his clothes were soaked with sweat and beads of perspiration rolled down his face and plastered the hair onto his forehead. One hour, another twenty minutes, and he was improving, he could see it… maybe. Movements smoother, faster— still not at Force level, but better.

Someone opened the door, letting in a rush of cooling night air, but he didn't stop until he'd completed the series, then he looked over. It was the Zabrak.

"Enough for today," Kodra ordered with no hint of either approval or displeasure. "Zero-five-hundred tomorrow," and he walked out.

Exhausted, Luke nodded to the empty doorway and headed back to Laundry for another shower and to exchange his newly cleaned jumpsuit with the one he was wearing. By the time he got to the barracks it was thirty minutes before lights-out.

Boss only glanced at him, and Luke was at once relieved and disappointed that apparently Garven was no longer his babysitter.

"Where've you been?" Hobbie demanded. "We were worried something threw up on you again. Or ate you."

"No, I've just been out playing with a stick," he said thoughtlessly, then blushed when Janson giggled.

"That's one I haven't heard before."

There was a chorus of groans at Janson's teasing. Luke shook his head and gave up. "I'm turning in early."

"Watch out for sticky stuff!"

"You're so juvenile!" At least he could listen to an educational tape in the privacy of his new room. And get up at…. Oh, never mind, he didn't want to think about his new morning routine.

OooOoo

After a long week of classes— and spending a lot of time getting bruised and being thrown to the floor because Kodra didn't allow him to use the Force during hand-to-hand— and then working and then studying… Luke needed a break from the routine.

So he contemplated his wardrobe and selected the lightweight formal Sithly outfit. Dad, I need hot weather clothes. It's miserable here.

After a pause (possibly his father was busy managing the fleet?) Vader said: Of course, Son. Since I am not busy managing the entire Imperial fleet, I will stop by the mall and pick up a few things. Anything else I can get for you?

No, just that, thanks. Unless you see something you think I'd like. He smiled and knew his father was smiling too. But I have a question.

Black.

Luke sighed. I'm not asking your favorite color! I'm serious.

Go ahead. I'll just tell Piett to wait.

He'll do that anyway. He had the distinct impression that his dad was enjoying their banter… and why not? Who else would trade quips with the Dark Lord? But seriously… what would happen if there was no war?

Be more specific.

Well… what would everyone do? What would happen to all the military people and the ships and the arms and the economies and— everything?

There will always be war, Luke.

He couldn't interpret the meaning of the regret in his father's voice. Was it at the thought of ending the war or continuing it? I guess I'll just ask some of the guys what they think. Hey— I'm doing well in my classes! Kodra doesn't let me use the Force. I was kinda clumsy at first— still am sometimes— but I'm getting better.

Good. And your tapes?

Sigh sigh sigh— fine! I'm listening to them! I haven't started the Sith ones yet.

I told you—

I know, do them first. I'll start tonight. He grinned. But first I'm going to crash the Officers Lounge and see if they kick me out.

Vader snorted. They should impose no social impediments on you, Son. You are above them all.

I know. And I'm cuter too. Someday he would pay for his new arrogant happiness… but then again, maybe he wouldn't, so he might as well go with it. G'night, Pop!

A snarl of rage snaked along their link, but Luke was pretty certain it was fake and he laughed. Having a nearly normal relationship with his father was intoxicating, and it made him feel… bouncy.

He went into the main room. Some of the guys were playing sabacc again. Didn't they know any other games?

"The Officers Lounge is air-conditioned, isn't it?" he asked, after checking that Boss wasn't present.

"Of course— so I hear," Porkins said. "Why?"

Zev chuckled. "I am so glad you're back! Tell me that you're going to crash the Lounge— please!"

Luke nodded. "How long do you think I'll last?"

"Can we stand outside and listen?" Hobbie wondered.

"It's too hot out there," Janson muttered. "And you're not supposed to drink."

"I won't! Is that what the officers do every night? Get drunk?"

"Watch out for Boss," Wedge warned. "When he's not here, he might be there."

With a half-salute, Luke headed out to see what sort of fun he could have. This so reminded him of the good times in Mos Eisley. Hopefully, it wouldn't remind him of the bad times.

Outside the door to the Lounge, he mentally scanned the occupants. It was surprisingly crowded. He didn't realize there were so many officers. Huh. Guess it didn't take much to get a commission in the Alliance. The higher ranks were in the back part of the room, so he shouldn't be noticed if he snuck in and hung a right. There was no sign that Princess Leia was there, which he supposed wasn't surprising. After all, she wasn't an officer.

Taking advantage of his short height, he sidled inside and headed to the bar. "Hi, may I have a pop?"

The bartender looked at him, smiled slightly, and said, "How about a cherry soda?"

"Well… okay. On the rocks."

"Naturally."

"How much?" He fumbled in his pants pocket for change.

"It's free… officer."

"Naturally," Luke replied with a grin.

Holding his drink, he studied the room and saw a table with four chairs and three middle-aged officers who looked bored so he made his way toward them, holding his soda overhead as he squeezed through the crowd.

"Hi! May I join you?"

They looked at him. One said, "Of course. I'm Kohle, that's Wilsee, and that's Priyat."

"How d'you do? I'm Commander Loneozer, but call me Oz." He graced them with his most charming smile and was convinced that they already looked less bored.

Wilsee sipped his wine. He was human as the other two were, and Luke wondered if the same species always hung out together. "You're very… young."

I'll bet I remind you of the son you either left behind or didn't have. "I'm from Tatooine," he said as though that explained his youth.

It looked for a moment like Wilsee might question that, but the moment passed. "I'm from Naboo."

"Really? My mother was from Naboo!" Oh, krit, he'd done it again.

"That explains your delicate features and excellent taste in garments," Wilsee said. "We Naboo are noted for our attractiveness. Is your mother an aristocrat? You have that distinctive bearing."

He knew his mouth was hanging open but he'd forgotten how to close it. "Uh…."

Kohle burst into laughter. "Don't give the kid a hard time! Ignore him," he said to Luke. "I'm from Naboo, too, and Priyat here is from Alderaan."

"Nice," he replied appreciatively. "I wish I'd been born somewhere more civilized."

"Well, Tatooine certainly agreed with you."

Was Wilsee flirting with him? "Thank you," he said politely. "But it was a harsh life. I grew up on a moisture farm and if it weren't for the war, I'd probably still be there." He gave a plaintive sigh. "If the war ended tomorrow, what would you all be doing?"

"I'd return to Naboo," Wilsee said without hesitation, "and find a rich woman with a lot of property and marry her."

Hmm, maybe he wasn't flirting.

"He wants to be a country squire," Kohle explained. "I'd probably stay in the military. I've been in for 25 years. Wouldn't know what else to do with myself."

"Oh!" He was surprised, then realized he shouldn't have been. "So you were in the Imperial… what, army or navy?"

"Navy. Loved it. Would still be there if Palpatine hadn't turned into a monster."

Priyat scowled. "It was one of your damn Naboo queens who started that mess."

Kritpeth. He knew, just knew, what was going to happen next. Although… no, what he was anxious about couldn't be possible, the timing was off. His mother hadn't been queen when Palpatine took over...right? "Which queen? What did she do?"

"Ah, back in the Senate days, she got Valorum booted from his chancellorship and Palpatine put in. It was all downhill from there. He was from Naboo too. Smelled like a conspiracy to me."

"What?"

"Stop blaming Naboo for everything that's gone wrong in the galaxy. I didn't see Alderaanis doing anything but sitting with their feet up looking holier than thou." Kohle glared at the other man.

Oh-oh. "Wait, wait!" Luke beamed his most charming smile to distract them. "But which queen was it? I've seen pictures and they all look the same."

"Amidala," Priyat said shortly. "Sanctimonious little—"

"Enough!" Wilsee's chair screeched as he pushed it back. "I've had enough of your disrespect and—"

"Gentlemen! What's going on? You know our rules." General Willard's voice came from behind him, and Luke slid a little farther down in his chair.

"Sorry, sir." Wilsee reseated himself. "We were just trying to educate the youngster and became too… vehement in our opinions."

"I see." Willard took a few steps and Luke looked in the opposite direction, hoping to become invisible. "And who is the youngster— oh. Oz."

Luke tilted his head and smiled brilliantly. "Hi, General! Didn't see you there."

Willard mumbled something into his wrist com, then said to Luke, "You don't belong here, you're not an officer."

"Well, don't blame me for that! I can't enlist without my Dad's consent— have you even asked him?— well, don't bother, he says 'no'— and I can't be an officer without enlisting and you shouldn't be putting social impediments on me anyway!"

Willard grabbed his upper arm and pulled him to his feet, not bothering to respond.

"Wait, I need my soda!" But he was dragged away. He waved to the three officers who were now looking grumpy instead of bored. "Bye, nice meeting you!"

Outside, the general didn't release him, but dragged him silently toward Red barracks. Boss met them halfway.

"Is it your conscious intention to continually embarrass me?"

He looked up at Boss from under his lashes, hoping he appeared innocent. "No…." But he couldn't resist adding: "You sound like my father."

Willard released him. "You'll obey our rules or you'll be in the brig."

"Oh, c'mon, I didn't commit a crime! I just wanted to have a soda."

"Not in the Officers Lounge. Stay where you belong."

"And just where is that?" Luke put his hands on his hips and glared. "You're elitist snobs! Some Alliance, you're as bad as the Empire! You're supposed to be fighting for freedom!"

"I'll leave you to deal with him," Willard told Narra, then pointed his finger at Luke. "No, you are not going to be a pilot without enlisting, so get that out of your head."

"Just because I went to the—"

"Just because," Willard mocked, "you can't follow protocol. One more breach, and you'll no longer be with us."

"This is overkill," Luke muttered to Willard's back as he walked away.

"Look at me."

With a sigh, he turned to Boss. "Really? Really was it such a big deal?"

His question was ignored. "I'd hoped that you'd learned discipline during your training. But—"

"I did! I just can't do it all the time!"

"Oz, you're—"

"Luke," he mumbled resentfully.

"Oz, you're not a child. But since you persist in behaving like one, I'll treat you like one. From now on, you can go to your two classes, work your shift, then you're grounded."

"Grounded? You're not my—"

"You're staying in the barracks from shift end until morning."

"What about food?"

"I'll consider it," Boss said darkly, sounding so much like his father that Luke was startled. Garven steered him toward the barracks. "Go."

"Fine." He hesitated. "I'm sorry. I just… wanted to go somewhere different. I didn't mean for things to end up this way."

Boss sighed. "You never mean to. You're a locus for trouble."

He hadn't heard the word before, but the definition was pretty clear. He was a locus, his father was a locus, and now it sounded like his mother had been a locus. Well, he might as well get all the locus trouble out of the way right now.

"I'll need some time alone to practice. And some body parts or corpses to practice with. Please."

OooOoo