Darth Vader is nervous as he walks with Astral at his side to meet his son. It's excitement mixed with dread, and it's got his adrenaline pumping. Nerves are an unfamiliar emotion for him as a general rule, but then again everything about his secret adult son rocks him on his heels. Unlike war and politics, fatherhood is completely unfamiliar territory. And well, this is fatherhood with the Force and swords. It poses a high degree of difficulty.

Right now, the undercurrents of the Force betray the importance of this gathering. Its eddies and swirls rush about his mind. Are they harbingers of danger? Indications of change? Maybe those ripples reflect destiny unfolding? Vader can't tell. The Force is more mysterious than ever today. It just serves to heighten his unease.

"It will be okay," Astral murmurs without looking. She knows, of course, that he's a mess behind the mask. "It will be okay . . . " She squeezes his hand.

"I wish it was anyplace but here," he grumbles back.

He finds this clandestine meeting in an ancient temple to be unnecessary. Not the subterfuge, of course. That is appropriate. It's the Naboo countryside location that brings up old memories which bother him. And also, the sepulchral atmosphere that makes Vader want to roll his eyes. Yet here he is again, marching into the ritual chamber of a centuries old Sith temple to meet with the Darkest, wiliest Lord of the Shadow Force the galaxy has seen since Bane. Vader wouldn't be here without the inducement of meeting Luke, of course.

Looking around at the Kittat inscribed walls, Vader thinks this is a rather ironic spot for a summit of Skywalkers to discuss balancing the Force. The long dead Sith loyalists who built this place would be aghast at the blasphemy afoot.

"Lord and Lady Vader," the old Muun is waiting as they step into the room. As expected, Darth Plagueis the Wise is not alone.

But Vader doesn't see this. Rather, he hears Luke's sword ignite. It's a familiar and unmistakable snap-hiss that sends a chill down his spine. And wow, that was fast. At first sight of him, young Luke reaches for deadly force.

Is it offense? Anticipatory defense maybe? Vader isn't really sure as he turns his attention to his tense looking kid who steps forward from the shadows. Luke has constructed a new saber. Green this time. And ever since Dooku cut his arm off, Vader has hated green swords. But a threat is a threat and Astral is here to protect. So Vader answers the challenge and pulls his own weapon. It ignites to throb and hum in his hand.

"My Lord!" Astral gasps in surprise. She's horrified. "Don't—please don't-"

"Yes, don't," Plagueis sighs. Luke is about to charge when Plagueis flicks his wrist and neatly pulls the sword from his grasp. Another flick of his wrist sends the boy crashing hard into the wall. "Desist!" the disapproving Muun orders with a pointed glare Vader's own direction.

Disapproving Plagueis stalks forward with his lumbering gait to loom over Luke. He hurls the boy's new sword to the ground at his feet with contempt. "Here is your first lesson: we use violence sparingly and we reserve it for our enemies."

Vader blinks behind his mask because that philosophy sounds nothing like the modus operandi of his star pupil Sheev Palpatine.

His boy is on his feet now with Dark fire in his eyes and an accusing finger pointed right at him. "Vader is my enemy!"

"He is your father!" Plagueis hisses. "Never again will you pull a sword on him. And do not think to dare pull a sword on me again, boy. Do not start fights you cannot finish. You're way outclassed here, young one, so watch and learn."

The old Muun whirls on him now. "Lord Vader, put it away!" he croaks. "We are allies, not enemies. Our interests converge. It is time to plot, rather than to fight."

Vader deactivates his weapon, but Luke appears still willing to brawl. "What is he doing here? You never said he would be here! I told you-I'll never join him!" His boy spits out rejection and it stings.

"Would you rather join his Emperor?" Plagueis counters calmly. "Because these are your choices: choose your family, choose Lord Sidious, or choose to die a half-trained Padawan." The boy hesitates and the old Muun waves a skeletal finger under his nose. "You will find that your father is the far preferable choice."

Without saying a word, Astral leaves his side and crosses the room to collect Luke's fallen lightsaber.

"Excellent idea, my dear," Plagueis decides as he watches. And now, suddenly the Force plucks Vader's own sword from his grip. It happens so fast that even his legendary reflexes don't register in time to resist. Vader watches as his sword moves to hover before Astral. "Hold that for safekeeping, please," the elder Sith instructs.

Astral grabs the floating weapon. She stands there off to the side clutching two lightsabers as the tense meeting that is really a standoff gets under way.

Plagueis continues his stage-managing. Given the dynamics, that's probably a good thing. "Now then," he begins, looking thoroughly annoyed, "Lord Vader is here to admit error in your prior meeting. He regrets any harm done to your friends. And he most sincerely regrets the harm done to you."

He what? Er . . . Vader didn't know that he was here to officially apologize. As a rule, the Sith do not apologize, just like the Sith do not forgive. And twice now, the kid has been the one to draw his sword first and start the violence. So it's not like he's the only one in the wrong. Besides, the hand was an accident. Astral already told Luke that. She did the apology for him.

Plagueis clears his throat as a not-so-subtle hint. "Lord Vader sincerely regrets the loss of your hand," the Muun prods him again with a glare.

Is that supposed to be his cue to grovel? Because he's not the groveling type. No one told him that this meeting was supposed to begin with a command performance for humiliation. But everyone in the room is looking at him. Suddenly, Vader feels shy. Sure, in his mind he has made this apology many times, but now that the moment has come, he's tongue-tied. It's not that he's not sorry—he is—but the words won't come out. Not with that irritating Muun scowling at him and Luke looking like he wants to light his sword again for some mortal combat.

Uncomfortable Vader just stands there . . . but after a moment he nods. And that's all he's prepared to say on the topic right now.

"Your bounty hunter gave Han to Jabba the Hutt!" rages his son. Apparently, the loss of his hand is not as significant as the loss of his friend.

"Is this Han person alive?" the Muun intervenes.

"Yes, he's alive. And in perfect hibernation," Vader replies. He will not apologize for the treatment of that smuggler scum. He's a criminal and a lackluster one at that.

"Excellent," the Muun decrees. "Then I will buy back this Han fellow from Jabba the Hutt."

"What?" gapes the boy.

"I have good relations with the Hutts. They understand credits and I have credits. Therefore, we understand each other. I will buy back this Han and the matter is resolved. I trust that the Alderaan princess and the wookiee are fine, yes?"

"Yes," the boy grumbles as Vader wonders just how much Plagueis knows about the business at Bespin.

"Good. And how is Master Yoda these days?" Plagueis starts chatting like they are all friends. Like no one's lost a hand, pulled a sword, or blown up a planet or a Death Star lately. "I sense Master Yoda less in the Force recently. Is he ill?"

"Ill?" The boy looks alarmed at this suggestion. Then Luke flushes slightly as though defensive. Or maybe a little guilty. "I have not seen my Master. I have been attempting to save my friend who Vader gave to a bounty hunter," he grumbles.

"So you have not had an opportunity to ask Master Yoda about what we discussed?" Plagueis asks the question directly.

"No." And now the boy looks very defensive. Does he fear to face his Jedi Master to hear the ugly truth? Or is he uncomfortable disclosing that he's been hanging out with the Sith? Because that's not the sort of thing old Yoda will receive well, Vader suspects.

"No, I haven't seen Yoda." Luke's eyes find the floor.

"That is a pity," Plagueis decides with remarkable understatement.

Luke nods nervously. He just stands there eyeing the Muun for a moment. Then he blurts out another accusation. "He cut off my hand!"

"He's sorry," the Muun answers mildly. "We've been over that already."

"He's very sorry," Astral chimes in now. "He's very, very sorry for what happened."

"He doesn't look sorry," Luke accuses.

"How can you tell?" Plagueis wonders aloud with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lopsided lips.

Vader bristles at being made fun of for his mask.

"Well, Lord Vader, go ahead . . . say you're sorry," Plagueis again prods him like they are school children in a playground tiff and he's the teacher adjudicating. And geez, it was just a hand, for Force sake. Merely a flesh wound as far as Vader is concerned. By the time he was Luke's age, he had lost a whole arm.

But after Astral joins Plagueis and Luke in glaring at him, Vader sucks it up and awkwardly begins, "Luke, I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry that I hurt you."

But the kid immediately disavows, "That's not enough! Sorry isn't enough! I lost a hand!"

"Want revenge, Jedi?" the Muun asks archly. "My, my, young Skywalker, you are one of us, aren't you?"

Luke looks horrified at that implication.

"Eye for an eye? Is that it?" Plagueis goads. "Well, too late. Dooku and Kenobi beat you to it. Anything you could hack off your father at this point wouldn't be real anyway."

And hey—that was kind of a low blow, Vader thinks. He's offended. Really offended. He refuses to be mocked for his disabilities.

"Snoke," Astral speaks up. "Please, let's not start off this way." As always, her voice is soft yet firm. She neatly establishes her role in today's meeting. Astral will be the dampening rod between the trio of reactors who are the volatile Skywalker men.

Astral looks around worriedly as she holds a lightsaber hilt in each hand. "No one here is untouched by violence. This family has suffered enough. Stop turning on each other and focus on our real enemy, the Emperor. We're here to kill the Emperor."

"We can all agree on that, can we not?" Plagueis looks first to him and then to Luke.

Vader nods.

So does Luke.

It's a fleeting moment of harmony. For Luke demands, "What's your angle in all of this? What are you after? What happens once we kill the Emperor?"

Those are good questions. Vader looks to Plagueis expectantly. It's his turn on the hot seat.

"My goals are to unite my family and to balance the Force. To bring peace and order to the galaxy at long last," Plagueis says pleasantly.

It's a nice sounding, if vague, answer and the boy calls him on it. "You are going to have to do better than that." Luke Skywalker crosses his arms over his chest and suddenly looks very Padme. It's disconcerting. "If we succeed, who are you in all of this? What's your title if I'm ruling the galaxy with him?" Luke jabs a dismissive thumb Vader's direction.

"Title? Why you may call me Grandfather," Plagueis purrs. "Or Master, if you prefer."

"What will the people call you?" Luke persists. Because, of course, his Old Republic loving Rebel kid cares about what the common folk think.

Plagueis ponders a moment. "I've always been fond of Supreme Leader."

Did he say that with a straight face? He did. Vader doesn't hold back. "That's terrible." Just terrible. "Like some petty potentate on a developing world in the Rim."

"Or," Plagueis shoots back, "like the preeminent practitioner of the Force. Like the man with the power of a god."

"Then why not call yourself the Supreme Being?" Vader posits sardonically. "Since you're a god in your own mind at least—"

"Do you want some lightning, son?" Plagueis growls out a threat. "Because right now, I am a wrathful god where you are concerned."

"None of this sounds very democratic," Luke observes sourly.

"Oh, democracy is fine," Plagueis announces with maximum noblesse oblige. "Worlds can choose their own form of government on a system level. We will let the will of the little people prevail in small matters. But I insist that galactic level government be directed by our triumvirate. By men of the Force."

"Led by Supreme Leader Snoke?" Vader has to stifle a laugh at how preposterous that mouthful sounds.

"Yes, and you're dropping the 'Darth.' We are men of the future. No more monikers from the past."

"Emperor Vader?" He likes the sound of that.

"Emperor Skywalker," Plagueis corrects. "People will understand it better when they know who you were and what Luke's relation is to you."

That might be true, but it gives Vader pause. The name Anakin Skywalker brings up all sorts of issues. And so, reflexively he retorts, "That name no longer has any meaning for me." It's the name of a Jedi. The name of a hero. The name of a handsome young man with big ambitions and bold ideas. And that's not who he is today. He's a wreck of a man who barely hangs on some days and only has a fraction of his former Force. He's old before his time thanks to years of depression and pain. Vader isn't sure who he is now, but he damned sure isn't Anakin Skywalker anymore. And that's rather humiliating to face.

"Stop running away from yourself, my son," Plagueis intones softly, almost like he's reading his thoughts. Then, the disfigured Muun turns to Luke. "You too. Do not be afraid of who you were born to be."

Young Luke bristles and then proclaims, "I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

And now Vader truly detests that he wears a mask because his kid can't see him rolling his eyes. "Luke," he begins, "the Jedi were not the answer to the galaxy's problems. There were never as good as they pretended to be."

"Yes, yes," Plagueis is impatient, "We've been over this before last time. You need to move on," Plagueis informs the boy. "Your father did."

"So the Jedi made mistakes . . . so they needed to reform . . . " Luke will concede to that at least. "That's no reason for him to murder them all—"

"And yet here you are discussing murdering a Sith?" Plagueis counters coolly.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Palpatine is a tyrant who will never let go of power short of death."

"Uhmmm . . . yes . . . " Plagueis agrees sagely. "So true, so true. Tell me, Lord Vader, would the Jedi Council willingly relinquish their authority?"

"Hardly," Vader snorts. "We called ourselves the fourth branch of government for the Republic. And don't forget the Jedi tried to arrest the Chancellor." So much for constitutional checks and balances.

"Well, there you have it," Plagueis concludes, telling Luke, "You need to stop with this crusade to recreate the past. Let the past die."

"The past didn't die—he killed it!" Luke accuses.

Geez, his kid loves to assign blame. Vader speaks up now. "The Jedi are gone. Their fire has gone out of the universe. Soon, the Sith will fade away as well. It is time for a new era ushered in by our family," he declares, borrowing some lofty rhetoric from Plagueis. Because if young Luke is anything like his own younger Jedi self, he will be a sucker for some altruism.

"But—"

The Muun cuts Luke off. "This is the way we will atone for our past excesses and make right our wrongs. By leading the galaxy into a better future. That's what you said you wanted, did you not?"

"Well, yes . . . " Luke shifts his feet uncertainly.

"Good. Are you with us?"

"I'm listening . . . " Luke grumbles, looking very uncomfortable.

"Very well. Gentlemen, let us get down to business," the elder Sith recalls them to the task at hand. "Our path forward is clear: Lord Sidious must die. Lord Vader will succeed him as Emperor and Luke Skywalker the Rebel hero will make peace with him publicly to reconcile the Alliance and the Empire. Lord Vader, you will make meaningful concessions to the Alliance and you will publicly apologize for your regime's Death Star and for Alderaan."

Again, with the apologies? And for Alderaan? He's not apologizing for Alderaan. He's not responsible for Alderaan. The Death Star was his Master's brainchild and Tarkin's baby all along. Vader crosses his arms and fumes some more.

The Muun must see his reluctance because he turns an impatient glance his way. "Lord Vader, if there is to be any deal with the Rebels, you will need to grovel on Alderaan. Blame Sheev all you like, but someone official needs to do the mea culpa on behalf of the Empire. The past excesses must be acknowledged before we can move forward. Together, you two must unify the galaxy so that you can rule it as father and son."

"And what about you?" Vader growls. "What's your role?" He's suspicious about that Supreme Leader stuff.

"I will be where I always am—in the background and in the Force," the crafty old Muun says mysteriously.

"Pulling the strings?" Luke guesses.

"I prefer to think of it as leading from afar," the Muun purrs and the Force fairly crackles to betray his duplicity.

Luke senses it too. "No deal!" The youth shakes his head and points straight at him. "I don't trust you and I'm not making peace with him. He killed Obi-Wan!"

Ah, yes . . . Vader was wondering when they were going to get to that. If they stay here in this cold, damp temple long enough, his kid can get his entire litany of grievances off his chest. This feels weirdly like brokering an armistice while conducting a Jedi intervention in the midst of a family therapy session. Oh, and they are also plotting high treason. Just an average afternoon for the dysfunctional Skywalker clan, naturally.

"You killed him in cold blood! It was an execution!" Luke accuses hotly. He's been mostly sullen this whole time since Plagueis threw him into the wall, but this issue clearly makes his blood boil over. His voice is choked with emotion. "You killed Ben!"

"Someone had to," Plagueis deadpans and Vader smirks behind his mask. Clearly, the Muun is becoming weary with their bickering. "Your father had good cause for revenge. Would you like him to remove his mask to show you Kenobi's handiwork?" And now Vader is not so keen on this line of argument. Plagueis keeps piling on about his infirmity and it's irksome. It's not like the Muun is easy on the eyes himself. No one who lives the Dark Side life remains pretty for long.

"Do you know how your father has suffered for Obi-Wan Kenobi? His body ruined and his son stolen and hidden from him only to emerge one day in blaze of terrorist glory. Your father is a proud man and he would not want you to see his weakness. But weak he is thanks to Kenobi." The Muun slants the kid a sideways glance of withering reproach. "Count yourself lucky that you only lost a hand when you lost a duel. Your father lost three limbs and his skin to your sainted Jedi mentor."

But still, his boy isn't going for it. "I'm not selling out the Alliance for him!"

"You'd be doing it for the good of the galaxy," Plagueis reminds him calmly, "and for the future. How many more lives do you want your revolution to claim, boy? We are offering a path forward to peace and unity. For the galaxy at a large and for us as a family. Those dead Jedi who you revere called themselves keepers of the peace, so this ought to be your thing. You will never get a better offer than this, so be quiet and listen."

Watching that reprimand from old Plagueis is gratifying. His son needs to tone down the righteousness a bit, Vader thinks. Hopefully, his long-lost daughter—if they ever find her-will be more moderate than her brother. Luke Skywalker has an attitude that is depressingly Jedi.

The Muun now turns to him and tries to refocus everyone on the task at hand. "Sheev will be formidable to kill. Look what he did to me."

"He says he is all the Sith now living within him," Vader sighs.

Plagueis snorts. "That sounds like my old Apprentice talking. But this may take more than one attempt. Sheev may jump his consciousness to a host vessel."

"One of his clones?" Vader surmises.

"Yes. Or even an object like the old Sith were fond of doing. It would be just like Sheev to haunt some relic or hide in a holochron like some evil genie in a bottle. But no matter. Force transfer is a good trick, but it's not the same as immortality. We can still kill him if he Force transfers, never fear." Still, the Muun frowns at this complexity. "Hopefully, we'll get him on the first try. But for that, we need a good plan."

"I have a plan. He's building a throne room on his new Death Star," Vader reveals.

"Is he now?" A slow, sly smile creeps across the elder Sith's ruined face. It gives Vader a glimpse of the Dark mastermind who patiently plotted the downfall of the Republic a generation ago. "Excellent," Plagueis rasps. "We will blow up the Death Star with Sidious on it. Two birds, one stone."

Vader himself loves this idea. There will be a delicious irony to watching his Master be consumed by his own hubris, dying on his favorite weapon.

In fact, the Muun is a bit gleeful as he thinks it over. "Yes . . . yes . . . this is going to be fun," he declares brightly, looking from him to Luke. "More fun than starting the Clone Wars."

Young Luke looks unconvinced. In fact, he looks increasingly terrified by the plot. "I haven't committed to any of this," he says under his breath, sort of like a pep talk to himself.

"You have misgivings?" Plagueis raises an eyebrow and it is a truly bizarre sight. "What is it that you need in order to be convinced? What do you require to join us?"

"Answers," his son scowls.

"Ask away." Plagueis sweeps his hand in a magnanimous gesture like the prince he pretends to be.

The more time Vader spends around the old Sith Master, the more downright jovial the man seems. He is nothing like Vader had expected. And nothing like the practiced faux charm of his old Apprentice, the consummate politician Emperor. For one, Darth Plagueis seems to thoroughly enjoy the drama of their current situation. Vader stands here fretting and sweating while Luke looks ready to flee. But as far as Vader can tell, Plagueis alternates between deadly seriousness and a strange esprit de corps. He's loving this and it shows. One glance at his son tells Vader that Luke Skywalker isn't impressed. His fears that his son and the Muun will plot against him are probably unfounded, Vader decides. His son looks far too skeptical and disapproving to double-cross him with Plagueis.

"I want answers from him, not from you," Luke Skywalker states. "So far, you've done all the talking." And here come the uncomfortable questions, Vader thinks.

"What happened to Anakin Skywalker?" his son asks.

Vader is annoyed by all the judgement in the kid's tone. He waves a finger at his boy. "That name no longer has any meaning for-"

"Just answer the question. What happened that you fell to the Dark Side?"

Vader's eyes narrow behind his mask at this disrespect. Does the kid want to lose the other hand too? Because he's prepared to take off his left one if this attitude keeps up. Just dredging up these old memories puts him in a bad mood. But Vader tries to make nice as he sees Astral eyeing him.

"I was trying to save your mother. I had foreseen her death in the Force, just like my mother's death. Sidious lied to me and said he could save Padme. Stupidly, I believed him and joined him on the Dark Side."

"I wish you had come to me, my son," Plagueis does his version of 'I told you so.' "You know that I can keep people from dying," he brags.

Luke ignores him. "How did my mother die?"

"Sheev drained her of the Force."

"You can do that?"

"Yes," Plagueis answers. "I'll teach you both sometime," he offers.

"So why did you stay Sith after she was dead?" Luke wants to know.

Why indeed? The real answer is that the Dark Side is addictive and power goes straight to your head. Plus, the Jedi were gone, his body was ruined and needed constant care, and there would be no opportunity to start over anyway. You don't exactly resign from the fraternity of the Sith. Moreover, Vader still wanted to make a difference in the galaxy. Being part of the new regime was his only chance to do so. He's no quitter like his old Padawan Ahsoka. Vader is a realist who adapts to the situation he's in. But how does he explain all that to his son who is an angry stranger to him? Vader settles on, "I believe in the goals of the Empire."

"Do you believe in its means?"

Again, Vader hears judgement in his son's tone. It irritates him and so his response is testy. "Not always. Sheev has a tendency to be harsh mostly because he's a sadist and he likes that sort of thing. But I lived through the Clone Wars. The Jedi and the Republic allowed their scruples to keep them from doing what they needed to do to win the war. In the end, more people died. Shorter, more decisive conflicts are best. Keeping order keeps the peace."

"Even if that means you blow up Alderaan?" Luke goads him.

"I have long opposed the Death Star," Vader answers without hesitation.

"But not the occupations and the secret police? Not the assassinations and the disappearances?" The boy's tone is biting.

"For a terrorist, you have a lot of scruples," Vader snipes back. "When I was your age, it was the Separatists tearing the Republic apart. Now it's your Rebellion trying to sow discontent."

"We have no legitimate means of political reform," Luke reminds him. "There is no change short of revolution thanks to you and your Emperor."

"Which is why we are all here, are we not?" Plagueis doesn't miss a beat as he attempts to corral them both. "We all desire change and we are uniquely positioned to make it. Now, have you further issues?" Plagueis complains to Luke.

The boy hesitates and that's a yes.

"What is it you want?" Plagueis sighs. "Money? I own a third of the wealth in the galaxy. Well . . . probably closer to forty percent in a good year for my equity holdings. But good year or bad year, it is more credits than you could ever spend."

"I don't care about credits," boasts the working class Tatooine farm boy.

"That's very Jedi of you," Vader observes with derision. And he has standing since he's the only one here who was an actual Jedi who renounced all worldly goods.

Plagueis smirks. "You were such a poor Light Side monk, my son. Take that in the best way." The Muun turns back to his grandson and asks, "Is it women then? You can keep a wife or keep a harem, and we will not care. That is your business. I will not even exercise veto power. I learned that lesson years ago with Sidious and his devotion to that Underworld whore." The Muun shudders and glances his way. "Sheev is still with that Cole woman, is he not?"

"Yes," Vader confirms.

His son looks unimpressed by the latitude being offered, Vader sees. Plagueis realizes it too. "So not women either?" The elder Sith turns back to Vader and looks mystified briefly. "Are there other vices beyond credits and sex? Not for me." The Muun's eyes narrow as a thought occurs to him. "I disapprove of drugs. I will not let you abuse spice or whatever else young people are snorting or smoking these days."

Luke Skywalker just blinks at this concern.

Vader too is blinking behind his mask. His own conversion to the Dark Side had been a long time in coming but it had happened fast. Palpatine had been his trusted mentor for years and his younger self had believed his Master's claim of cheating death through the Force. Then, Palpatine had been begging him to learn his forbidden knowledge and crowing about unlimited power. Before he knew it, he had cut off Mace Windu's arm and he was kneeling at the Chancellor's feet, pledging his loyalty and getting his Sith title. Sidious' pitch had been serious and focused on Dark power and violence.

By contrast, watching Plagueis sway his son to their not-quite-Dark-but-not-so-Light-Side conspiracy for balance seems more like haggling over a business negotiation. Like when they are through, they will shake hands and execute a letter of intent on a treasonous conspiracy. And Plagueis, it seems, is anxious to close the deal.

"Well, spit it out, boy. What do you want?"

"No more Death Stars," Luke responds.

"Done," Plagueis, Astral, and himself agree in unison.

"A Senate," comes his son's next demand.

Again, Plagueis agrees. "A Senate is an excellent idea. We will indulge in some democracy. Your friends Mon Mothma and Leia Organa can be at the helm to give it some authenticity. They'll like that," Plagueis decides. "It will give them something to do while we make the decisions."

"Civil rights," the young Jedi adds to his list.

The Muun shrugs. "Sure, why not. Anything else?"

"Abolition of slavery in the Rim."

"Absolutely." The Muun is no fool. He knows his audience. Plagueis now quite grotesquely winks his direction and Vader cringes.

"Amnesty for all who fought in the Rebellion."

"Yes, yes . . . " The reformed Sith Master waves an impatient hand. "Naturally. We will pardon all political prisoners and combatants as part of the peace process. Your father will gladly empty his work camps of all the dissidents. Anything else?"

"Yoda lives."

"No." Darth Plagueis wisely draws the line there.

"No?" This instant refusal takes young Luke aback.

"No," Plagueis repeats himself firmly. "Yoda dies."

Hell, yes, Vader concurs silently behind his mask. That's the smartest thing Plagueis has said this whole time. "He must be nine hundred years old by now," Vader reasons, hoping to bridge the dispute. "Yoda's going to die soon anyway." And that argument cuts both ways, he realizes. But in any event, the old Jedi Master is a relic of the past who has long outlived his times. He's a bad influence on Luke.

"He will stay in exile," Luke counteroffers. "He will be a passive threat only."

"He dies," Plagueis doubles down on his decision. "Yoda long ago wronged my family—our family," he amends. "I will spare you the details, but it is a personal matter between him and I, and he must answer for his crimes," Plagueis contends. "I will not involve either of you. But I will have justice."

"You mean revenge?" the young Jedi jeers.

"Call it what you wish. But Master Yoda is mine to deal with."

Here then, is the deal breaker for Luke Skywalker. Perhaps the boy cannot bear to lose both of his Jedi mentors, Obi-Wan to himself and Yoda to Plagueis. Or perhaps the boy is not yet ready to break fully with the Jedi tradition. But there is no compromise on this matter. "I will not let you kill him!" Luke draws a line in the sand. "I will not bargain with my Master's life."

Darth Plagueis too is unwilling to bend. His wheeling and dealing stops and he simply stares in stony silence at the Luke while Vader looks on.

After a moment, the boy steps back and nods gravely. "No deal then."

"You would walk away from your family and from an Empire for Yoda?" Vader is incredulous. He had always found the ancient Jedi Master to be more annoyingly glib than truly wise. But it was bad politics in the Jedi Order to actually voice this opinion, so Anakin Skywalker had played along.

"You would squander the best chance of peace the galaxy will have for generations? You wish to prolong this bloodshed?" the Muun lays on the guilt. Clearly, Plagueis knows his son's altruism is his weakness.

"Yes." Luke Skywalker turns on heel and begins to walk out. "We're done here. There is nothing left to discuss."

"Young fool!" Plagueis hisses.

That provokes Luke. He whirls. "This isn't just Yoda. This is you . . . both of you. Because I don't hear anything about freedom or justice. All I hear is talk of power." He shakes his head in derision. "Both of you lusting for power like the Sith you are! You talk about balancing the Force, but all you're really doing is consolidating power."

"Luke, please . . ." It's Astral speaking up.

But Luke merely approaches her to take back his weapon. "Goodbye," he mumbles some pretense at politeness for her sake. And there is a glimpse of the farm boy who his teachers described as respectful and nice, Vader remembers.

"Just think about it some more," Astral wheedles. "Please don't be hasty—"

"I still need you to blow up the Death Star," Vader calls after his fast retreating kid.

Luke turns to shoot him a look that would freeze water on Tatooine.

There is silence now as he, Astral, and Plagueis watch Luke leave in a huff.

"Young fool," Vader shares the Muun's assessment when the kid is gone.

"Indeed," Plagueis agrees. "I foresaw this meeting but I didn't think it would end like this. Tell me, can you speed up progress on this new Death Star? We might be able to kill Sheev with that weapon," Plagueis posits.

"I'm not giving Coruscant the Alderaan treatment," Vader immediately objects as Astral looks alarmed.

"Then perhaps we can lure him to another location."

"It won't work."

"It might."

"He never leaves his palace."

"He might if he thought he could kill me in the process."

"What do you mean?" Vader demands.

"I mean we let Sheev think he's luring me into a trap but the trap is really for him. He knows how well I project in the Force, so it would need to be a good ruse. Perhaps I should really let him kill me . . . that will put my immortality to the test, eh? Let me think on it," Darth Plagueis muses.

"In the meantime, what do we do about Luke?" Astral wants to know as she crosses the room to join his side.

"We will let that idealistic hothead calm down a bit and consider our offer," Plagueis decides. "Lord Vader, if he seeks you out, bring him to me."

"I can handle the boy," Vader replies stiffly. He's irked by the Muun's open distrust and discouraged by the turn things have taken. If he and Luke can't be in the same room together for half an hour, how can they possibly rule the Empire together?

"Whatever you do, do not bring him to Sheev."

"I'm no fool."

"It might be unavoidable. Be careful. If Sheev gets you both in the same room, you are a dead man, my son. My Apprentice will choose the boy over you." The Muun frowns and thinks a moment. "We may have to kill Sheev first and then recruit the boy. It is not my preferred approach, but it might be necessary."

That prospect holds minimal appeal to Vader. He doesn't trust this Muun. Plagueis might kill Sidious and steal his role as Emperor. This leading from afar business he claims does not inspire confidence. And there is no guarantee that Luke will ever join them in the end. Vader would be taking an awful risk just to exchange one Sith Master for another.

This is all about Luke Skywalker, Vader decides. His son is the only thing worth the risk of changing Masters. Vader isn't going to act with Plagueis unless the boy is part of the deal. But the Muun doesn't need to know that.

Vader voices aloud his concerns. "That boy belongs with me. But he will be hard to persuade."

"His compassion for you will be his undoing," Plagueis observes softly.

Vader looks up, surprised at this remark. "He hates me."

"He wants to relate to you. He wants to understand you." The old Muun continues with his quiet insight.

"He hates me," Vader sighs. His son chose death at Cloud City rather than to join him. And today, his son chose Master Yoda over ruling the galaxy with him. The rejection is humiliating. Vader doesn't know why, but his son's approval matters to him. He's tired of being judged wanting by everyone from Sidious to Plagueis to the Rebellion to his son. Whether he is Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader, he has been the subject of constant criticism. It grates on him. Just for once, it would be nice to meet someone's expectations. Or maybe even exceed them.

"He fears becoming you," the Muun observes, sounding a lot like Astral. "But in the end, he will come around. He's a smart boy."

Vader isn't so sure. The Muun's strategy of promising his boy money and women had missed the mark widely. "Does that mean you are willing to concede on Yoda?"

"No. Killing Yoda is more than my own vengeance. It is the principle of the matter. No one can balance the Force by insisting that a bastion of the Jedi Order lives. There is always sacrifice for change. Master Yoda will be the price your boy pays for his power." The Muun thinks a moment. "Perhaps there can be a compromise if Yoda lives, but I strip him of his Force like he did my wife . . . "

"Fine," Vader agrees. He's willing to give on the Yoda point if that's the price to pay to get his son by his side.

"Do not despair, Lord Vader. Today held some promise. Luke Skywalker is still very young. He is not used to the responsibility of being a leader. He still thinks he's a nobody thrust into the spotlight. In time, he will become more confident and less dependent on figures like Yoda in his life."

Vader is unconvinced. And on the whole, he is disappointed and discouraged. This feels a bit like Bespin all over again.

"That boy has gone everywhere looking for his missing father. To your step-brother, to Kenobi, and now to Yoda. Our task is to help him realize that the guidance and approval he seeks is here for the taking. That is when we will have him. Mark my words, Lord Vader, his curiosity for you will be his undoing. Luke Skywalker will be back."

Vader nods and strives to be hopeful. "Then, we will wait."

Astral speaks up to dissent. "I don't want to wait."

"He's not ready to commit," Plagueis warns. "If we chase him and pressure him, it may backfire."

Vader agrees, but Astral persists. "Why don't we approach the Rebellion directly?"

"Go around Luke?" Vader frowns at the suggestion.

"No, we'll need him to get in the door. But if we get an audience with the Rebel leaders, they might be keen on moving forward even if he isn't."

"Let them exert some pressure on Luke for us, you mean?" Vader asks.

"Yes," Astral nods. "The Rebels are his family now, I fear. They will have the most influence."

Vader has to concede to her wisdom. Heretofore, Astral has mostly been a silent observer but now she's an active participant. She lifts her chin and digs in. "I'm not giving up on this plan. This is too good a chance to waste."

Plagueis practically beams at her. "Now, there's the persistence that convinced me to loan out my favorite paintings to the Alderaan Museum of Modern Art."

"That took years," Astral reminds him. "We don't have that long before the Emperor starts to use his new Death Star. We need to destroy that Death Star."

There is her motivation in a nutshell. This cause is as much her cause as it is his cause, Vader knows. Astral wants the weapon gone and Sheev deposed independent of his own predicament as Apprentice. Sure, he's part of it. Astral doesn't much care for the Force, but she does care for him. Plus Vader suspects Astral also wants to reunite what's left of their family since it's the only kin she has left. It all combines to give them overlapping reasons to accomplish the same goals. Astral's not standing by her man so much as getting what she wants too.

"It could work . . ." the Muun considers her suggestion, "and it would take the pressure of the decision-making off his shoulders alone. Do you think he would get you a meeting with Mon Mothma?"

"We can ask," comes Astral's reply. "But we should probably limit the objective to destroying the Death Star. Er . . . back off on the whole ruling the galaxy bit."

"Agreed."

Vader raises another issue. "What about the girl? You know who my girl is," he accuses to Plagueis. It's an educated guess.

The Muun de facto confirms his hunch. "Leave her to me."

"No!" he growls back.

"Lord Vader, it is best that you let me handle her. Let this matter go for now. Focus on Luke."

"She's my daughter!" He wants her back. Before Sheev learns of her and finds her and she ends up either dead or used as a pawn. Or maybe Luke finds her and drags her into his revolution and makes her a hunted fugitive like himself.

"Trust me on this, my son," Plagueis argues softly and now Vader's suspicions are especially heightened.

"Where is she? Who is she?" he demands with real menace.

Astral piles on as well. "My Lord, please tell us."

Darth Plagueis considers a long moment.

"Please, Snoke, tell us," Astral tries again. And if Vader didn't know better, he'd think his wife has that old Muun wrapped around her little finger.

Her plea works. He relents. "You have met her. On several occasions, I believe."

Is Plagueis being coy? "Who is she?" Vader demands again. Does Plagueis sense his determination? He must because the old Sith now casually drops a bombshell on his unsuspecting self.

"If she's who I think she is, then your daughter-my granddaughter in the Force-is Alderaan's Princess Leia Organa."

"Really?" Astral exclaims her happy shock.

He is far less enthused. "Fuuuuck . . . " Vader sighs. He didn't think it was possible, but things just got more complicated.