Chapter Description: They are betrayed. Vader is angry. Acting as his father's instrument of revenge causes Luke to make a critical moral decision that may lead to disastrous consequences.

NOTE: Thanks for the comments and kudos many of you have left along this journey. Your encouragement inspires me to continue this verrrry long (but beloved by me) story. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy finding out what Luke and his dad are up to. And special thanks to commenters signed in as "Guests". FFN doesn't allow me to respond to you, but I read and appreciate your comments!

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Technically it was morning. In a few hours he had to go to work, and he hadn't gotten any rest because he was worrying that Cris Andres might be a spy. And worse, that he had to warn his dad. No one could be expected to relax when they were trying to figure out how to confess something unpleasant to Darth Vader.

His dad was probably snoozing. Luke reached out cautiously like he was on tiptoes sneaking into a room so if his dad didn't notice him, he could just back out—

Why are you awake, Bug?

Oh, damn. Uh...I was thinking about our day and stuff. That was fun.

Yes, it was. But what 'stuff' has so disturbed your sleep?

By the Holy Order of Sith! Was his father a mind-reader?

Okay, scratch that.

Uh...well…. His words needed to be tactful. He had to couch his suspicions with doubt. He didn't want to incriminate the doctor needlessly. But as usual his good intentions were obliterated by his tongue when he blurted: Dr. Andres asked questions about where I was yesterday and if I was talking to you in my head.

Ouch. Still, no sense in beating himself up for telling the truth. It's not like his father wouldn't have sensed deception anyway. But the extended silence he received in response was making him nervous. He waited patiently for a few seconds.

Dad? Are you still there? And expected his father to say 'where else would I be' because that was their personal joke.

Nothing.

Da—

Are you referring, Vader growled, to the physician that I specifically told you not to be intimate with? You told him that you can talk to me telepathically? Does he know who I am?

What do you mean, who you are? Luke pulled the blanket up to his chin. He knows you're Anakin Skywalker, but—

HOW DOES HE KNOW THAT?

His bed vibrated. Maybe it was a quake because he couldn't be feeling Darth Vader's rage from such a distance. In the center of the room a dizzying swirl of dust motes gathered and coalesced into— He wasn't sure if he was actually seeing or feeling anything, but there were colors, lights, sounds surrounding him, and he was pulled— no, yanked into a tornado of chaos. Spiraling down into the heart of something. He was—

Staring at Darth Vader.

"Oh. It's you."

A giant Vader loomed over him. Everything else was gray and murky. Was this the Void?

"How does he know my name?" No more anger. Now the tone was measured. Controlled. Quiet. Almost gentle. But not in a good way.

"I may have mentioned it. Dad, where are w—"

"You may have mentioned it."

"Oh, c'mon! He guessed! It's not a common name. And...could you take your mask off? I want to see—"

"How did he know your name? Explain to me the point of having alternate identities if you blurt out your true name to every passing stranger."

"I don't! And you were the one who put my name on the FYEO! Or have you conveniently forgotten that?" Really, he wished his father would appear as himself, not Vader. With his face, not The Mask.

His father grunted something that maybe was a grudging acknowledgement that he was actually responsible. But Force forbid he should say so directly. "I see. And who said the name 'Anakin Skywalker'?"

The soft voice was not soothing; quite the opposite. It was ominous, like the eerie sky that appeared over the Wastes when a sandstorm was beginning to form on the horizon. He wished he could hold Berrie, because at least the fluffy would be some sort of protect— No, he did not think 'protection'. He meant… comfort. "Well, he did. He guessed. I told you— it's not a common name! He remembered hearing about your Clone War exploits. And he made the connection because of my Force abilities."

"Did he come by such knowledge before you demonstrated your lightsaber skills?"

The voice changed, becoming as cold as their surroundings. Intense. "Stop yelling at me! How did you think I was going to explain the healing! Sheesh, Dad, don't get all bent out of shape!"

"I am not the one who is 'yelling'."

Oh. Right. "Sorry. But it feels like yelling."

Mentally he counted the Vader-style breaths that he couldn't actually hear. He was up to nine when his father spoke again. "He was the physician who suggested Carosi for my surgery. And now you suspect he may be a spy."

"I don't know. Maybe. Or not. He graduated from the med school there so that's probably why—"

"A spy for Palpatine, you mean, for there is no other possibility."

Shit. "What about Xizor?" he offered helpfully, if indeed that was in any way a helpful alternative. "Or maybe a Moff. Or… I don't know, somebody."

Silence again. There were no sounds here and nothing to look at except the enormous cloaked figure that was at least twice its normal size. And everything was so still— No, it wasn't. When he focused his awareness, he could sense movements, invisible things that brushed across his face and sent quivers along his arms.

He didn't like that.

He clasped his hands behind his back, lacing the fingers together and squeezing until his knuckles cracked. "Is this the Void? There's something wrong here."

His father cast a glance over his shoulder (which was not comforting). "There's always something wrong here, and this time it is you. Young one, your disdain for discretion has endangered us both."

"Don't scold me for saying you're Anakin!" he defended hotly. "You told your Imp buddies! At least Cris doesn't know you're Vader!"

"Cris," Vader repeated, his voice coated with ice that stung harder than the hail on Presbalin. More shivers ran along Luke's spine, and they had nothing to do with the Void this time.

"Dr. Andres."

"I see. And how did you come to the conclusion that he doesn't know I am the Dark Lord?"

"I don't know. Well...maybe he'd be too scared to ask questions if he thought that you were— and anyway, who could blame him?" He needed to be in his bunk with his pillow because he could pull it over his face and suffocate himself before what was about to happen, happened.

Nope, too late.

"You must eliminate him."

"No!" He turned in a circle, wanting to pace away— but there was nowhere he could escape his father, and he was wary of falling into whatever was in the gray just beyond his sight. "Where are we?! And I don't know if he's a spy! Maybe he's just nosy! I'm not going to kill a doctor, for krit's sake. What if he's innocent? He's probably innocent! Maybe! Most likely!"

"Very well."

"What?" He struggled to see the expression behind the mask and failed completely.

"I will leave you to determine that— today. Immediately."

"Okay! Um… how?"

"You believe you are so clever. Can you not think of a method? No? Then allow me to make a suggestion."

He stared into lenses that didn't shimmer red in the Void and folded his arms. "Go right ahead, Dark Lord."

Mercifully his father ignored his minor sass. "Use one of the chips I gave you to acquire the data from all his devices, both professional and personal. I will have Captain Gallia scan it for suspicious indicators."

Great, Captain Code Cracker to the rescue. "How will you get—"

"Leave that to me."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Gallia will instruct you what to delete after he determines if compromising information has been collected. If your 'friend' is guilty— or if I cannot confirm his innocence— you must eliminate him without delay. Do not disappoint me further."

Disappoint? He felt his body tremble like an electric current jolted through it. "Dad…."

Before he could register anything more, he was back in his room and his bed shook again. He winced, really wishing it was only a quake. Although no one came running out of their bunks, so evidently not.

If you have ruined another plan… if you have destroyed all my dreams for a future free of my prison…again...

Oh, no. He hadn't thought that far. Dad….

Because if you believe Palpatine would allow another chance— if he would even allow me to live— then you are hopelessly ignorant. If you weren't my son—

There was a pause of three breaths while Luke held his own because he didn't want to hear the rest of that thought.

But you are. Still, you are fortunate that you are not physically in my presence at this moment. Report to me the instant you have clarification.

Yes, sir. He sagged. His compulsion to be defensive and angry had vanished when his dad pointed out that this could ruin his plan. It was the Death Star all over again. Still, maybe his dad was overreacting. Cris couldn't be a spy.

But what if he was?

And Luke, since I cannot trust you to restrain your desire to confide in everyone— even after the multiple chances I have given you— you have forfeited the right to decide your future. You require discipline and common sense, which the Alliance commanders obviously have not been able to instill. After you meet with the Council, you WILL report to the Executor and you will NOT return to Yavin.

He didn't respond and his dad snapped out of their link. "We'll see about that," Luke retorted when he figured he was safely out of sensing distance.

If necessary, I will exile you to Mustafar until the execution of my plan is imminent.

His father heard everything. It wasn't fair. He opened his mouth to protest, but his bravado evaporated in an instant. He sat on the edge of the bunk and couldn't get up. There were moments in his life that he didn't want to think about. Like Mos Eisley, After. On Vjun when his dad got angry. Maybe the Death Star when he'd abruptly become Nobody. Maybe when—

This was no time to enumerate the disappointments he'd caused himself and his father. That recital would take days. (And it would all be said internally because he wasn't allowed to talk to anyone, right? Anyone ever again!)

He looked at the chron. It was already after 0200. Presumably Cris wasn't on duty. Another doctor would be, of course, but that shouldn't present a problem. He hoped— no, he dreaded that spy notes were something Cris would keep in an easily accessible medical computer. Either way he'd have to figure out how to get into the officer's lodging, too. There was probably nothing to find, but the only way to prove it would be to search through everything.

He pushed himself to his feet but couldn't make his legs move further. He looked sideways in the mirror and saw someone who was plainly unremarkable. Just a stupid, chatterbox kid wearing stupid kid pajamas with stars, and a stricken expression that—

His face twisted with disgust. A stupid kid whose lower lip was trembling like a baby. He was almost a man, he wasn't a spoiled, selfish, ignorant kid who did stupid, stupid things that could end his life and his father's.

Luke.

The floor tilted and he collapsed back onto the bunk.

Yes, I am angry and worried, but that doesn't mean I have ceased loving you.

He should probably be polite and respond, but his brain wasn't functioning.

You understand that. It was Anakin's voice. You've been angry with me enough times to know it doesn't change what we feel.

He shook his head, despairing. Stop spying on my thoughts!

When you are emotional, Luke— which is most of the time— your thoughts are the equivalent of slaps to my face. I cannot avoid hearing you while remaining open to you.

He pulled at his sheet and wiped it across his face. Fine! Then don't 'remain open', just cut me off! Berrie snuggled into his arms without being asked.

He couldn't hear a sigh, but knew exactly when it happened. What is it, Bug?

What is it? Simple. Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader. Two sides of one coin, and every time it flipped he wasn't certain which side would land up. And he didn't have another coin. It was this one or nothing.

Neither of us is perfect, Luke. We are fortunate to have each other.

You mean because no one else would have us? He shook his head again. This time was different. You scared me.

Pause. Then: Terror is my job. I'm Darth Vader. As if treating this moment lightly would make it easier.

Yeah, but you're not supposed to be him with ME.

This pause lasted longer. Luke counted to five breaths that he couldn't actually hear before his father responded.

Forgive me. I wasn't expecting to be confronted by the possibility that my plan was on the verge of destruction because you have no verbal control. And, as usual, you are being overly dramatic. I did not scare you. If I had intended to scare you, you would be much more frightened than—

Fine. Stop. Never mind. He wished his dad had quit after 'forgive me'. But wishing wouldn't change anything. This was his father, for good and for bad. There were times to argue with him and times to simply surrender. But Luke wondered if he surrendered too often.

Still, he remembered that his father had surrendered to him a few times. Or more than a few. Maybe a lot. And Vader had a lot more wisdom and experience and control than his emotional, careless, thoughtless son.

Luke surrendered. I'm sorry too.

I know. His exasperation was echoed by the Dark Lord. Go now and see what you can learn. I will have Gallia waiting. Remember, your success or failure may mean our lives. And, not so incidentally, the future of the galaxy.

Yeah, like I'd forgotten for a second. Mechanically he rose and tucked Berrie under the covers, lumping up his pillow and blanket so it looked like he was still there just in case someone came looking for him. Which had never happened, but with his luck it would now.

Okay. No more whining, down to business. He discarded his immediate inspiration to wear black with his cloak so he could skulk (and be overly dramatic like his father accused). But the base was brightly lit at night, so maybe looking like Mini Vader wouldn't be a good idea. He pulled on his boring work fatigues (yes, Dad, over the bodyglove) and fastened his tool belt and lightsaber. He'd likely blend into the background but if someone asked, he'd say he couldn't sleep and was working on a ship. Taking a walk. Whatever.

Strolling casually past the medical unit, he could hear voices. Maybe he would have to climb through a window. Although when he thought about it, he realized the tiny windows didn't open because the place was air conditioned. Another idea then.

After a couple minutes, a young mechanic walked quickly along the path. "Hi," he greeted her. "Beautiful day, isn't it? The sun is so bright."

Her gaze flicked at him, then at the random stars peeking through the heavy night clouds. "If you say so."

Maybe not her. He looked around and saw a worker plunk down on a bench and struggle to lace his boots. "Beautiful day, isn't it? Look up there. The sun is so bright."

"Yes, beautiful. It's so bright." The young fellow gazed at the sky.

Success! "There's a bad accident about a klick east of the main hangar. They need doctors. You should go to the medical center and tell them to get there quickly."

"I should go tell them!" He stood. "There's a bad accident about a klick east of the main hangar. They need doctors."

"You'd better hurry," Luke urged and watched his suggestion obeyed. Wow! That was the first time he'd tried seriously to use the Weak-Minded Thing, and it worked perfectly. This was a skill he could put to good use in the future. Maybe even with the Alliance Council. He lingered and waited. Moments later three medical staffers came hurrying out. One was talking into his wrist com as they rushed to their cart.

"—why we weren't called! Let Command know we're headed over there now."

Okay, well, that should cause enough of a commotion that he could slip in and out without problems.

A clerk was slouched in a chair, probably forlorn at being left out of the excitement. "Doc said for me to wait," Luke murmured easily, not pausing as he headed into the exam office. He probably hadn't needed to say anything, because the clerk didn't appear interested.

He closed the door and crossed to the desk, pulling the data chip from his pocket and sliding it into the pad on the desktop. While it downloaded everything (Stars, he hoped he wasn't getting the entire patient database!) he searched the drawers and cabinets, finding no other devices. When the pad beeped, he pulled his chip free.

Dad, I've got the data. How do I send it to you?

I have it. Gallia is scanning, which will take several minutes. Be prepared to return here and delete any incriminating information. In the meanwhile, you must check the doctor's personal device.

It's not here. And how do you already have the data? Are you spying on me through the chips? Will I never have any privacy?

It's probably in his quarters.

Well, duh. And you didn't answer— How am I supposed to— Never mind, I'll figure it out.

Because he was good at figuring things out. Incredible, in fact. Amazing. Clever, like his dad had said (sarcastically sometimes). (Although both of them knew it was true.)

He slipped out while the clerk's attention was focused on playing a game on their screen and headed toward Officers' Row. The long building had a few windows that didn't look like they'd open, but there were two doors in the front. He walked around and found a third door in the back. He opened it cautiously.

Muted voices and music came from a room on the right. He edged toward it and peered through the glass. A few people were playing some table game that he'd never seen before. There were more tables and comfortably-plump sofas and chairs, plus a big-screen holo. Huh. It figured that high-ranking officers got the good stuff when pilots had to grovel to get a broken audio deck replaced. Where was the justice in that? Who were the heroes of this war anyway?

Focus, Luke.

Annoyed, he clicked his tongue as he marched past the doorway like he belonged, and no one stopped him. He paused and felt for Cris's presence. It too was muted, probably by sleep, and he approached the door, really hoping that Cris slept alone because it would be embarrassing otherwise.

Opening the door quietly, he squeezed through and closed it, pausing in the darkness. Cris was snoring. A portable gas heater was glowing, and the room was hot in comparison to the cooled hall. He enhanced his night vision like his dad taught him and went over to the desk, which seemed like the logical place to keep secret info, because who would worry that it would be stolen while they were right there in the room?

Yep, there was a datapad on top. It lit up when he turned it on and he quickly lowered the volume slider. His data chip snug in the slot, he downloaded everything— which was a horrendous violation of privacy… although it might be interesting to read later. If Vader could spy on everyone, so could he!

Got it, Dad.

Good. Gallia added a downloadable virus to your chip. Initiate it, so Andres will assume the virus corrupted his unit and won't report a theft.

You're a lot better at sneaky stuff than I am. His reactions puzzled him. They were part dismay and part admiration. (His usual feelings about his dad, he supposed.)

I am not encumbered with pointless scruples.

Yeah? What happened to 'all a man has is his honor'?

This is not a matter of honor. His father sounded cross. I'm referring to survival. Delete everything first. There is a remote possibility that they could recover their data. There was a pause. Although Captain Gallia assures me that his virus is irreversible.

His lips twitched as he imagined Gallia's offense at any suggestion that the virus he created was less than totally effective. Dad, we can't erase everything. What if it has personal stuff he needs?

Unless you wish to repeat your foray into burglary, my little felon, delete it now.

Still he hesitated. It was bad enough that he was stealing Dr. Andres's personal info, but deleting it before they could determine if there was any incriminating spy stuff—

But there was his dad's life and his own life (and not incidentally, the future of the galaxy) to consider. It seemed like those outweighed the destruction of personal data. Abruptly reacting, Luke hit DEL ALL, then uploaded the virus and closed Cris's pad. He rose, freezing as the doctor turned over restlessly, one arm flinging out.

He padded noiselessly to the door, wincing as he pulled it open and light from the corridor spilled inside.

"Zaran?" Andres called sleepily.

That was interesting. He wondered who Zaran was.

"Uh…no, sorry, wrong room," he answered in a deep, gruff voice.

Which apparently wasn't a great disguise, because Andres came awake like someone used to being roused for emergencies, and snapped on the reading lamp over his bed. "What the hell? Luke?"

"Uh...shh!" He closed the door, thinking quickly. "We don't want anybody to hear."

"Hear what?" Andres sat up, his chest bare and scrawny. Honestly, the doctor should work out. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

Behind his back, his hand curled around the lever in case he had to dart away. "Umm…." He forced himself to relax against the door and tilted his head, smiling. "I can tell you like me. So… you know… here I am."

"What?"

Luke fluttered his lashes. "Didn't you say 'see you later'? Oh!" He put his other hand in front of his mouth. "I guess you said 'good evening', but I assumed you meant…." Oh, my Force, don't let him take me up on this!

"You can't be here!" Dr. Andres scrambled from the bed, wrapping the sheet around his waist and clutching it like it was a lifeline that would save him. Which… well, maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. "No— you have to leave! Don't let anybody see you! How did you get in?"

He gave a tiny sigh (and hoped he wouldn't have to kill Cris later because really, he seemed like a nice enough guy). "I walked in. I'm sorry… I thought…."

"Oh, hell! You're— Do you know how young you are? You can't— I can't— I have a— You need to leave now. No, wait— let me make sure no one's in the hall."

Luke moved away from the door— but only marginally so he brushed the other's arm and made the doctor's nerves splinter.

Inappropriate but creative, his father commented.

Luke ignored him, although he felt partially mollified by the praise.

Gallia found references to you in the office medical files. Andres has been studying midichlorians and indicated he acquired the blood of a human subject for his research. You must understand how dangerous that is. Return to the office to delete the data there.

No! No, that couldn't be true! Andres was using him as a test subject? Without asking his permission?

We also located copies of encrypted transmissions in his personal files to someone named 'Kalee Sinthus'. We are researching that name now— Ah. In all hells— It's a physician at the EmpPal Surgical Center.

What? Palpatine's—? Where you—? Oh, now his fury erupted and he was seething. He was tempted to pull out his lightsaber and slice the lying bastard down straight down his center, split him in two, feed his remains to—

No. You must not be suspected. Arrange an accident.

"Okay, it's clear," Andres hissed. "Go. Get out! Hurry!"

He didn't have to fake distress. Cris had betrayed his trust— and probably violated his medical oath. Didn't they have laws about such things? "Fine. I'll be in later for my chest scan." Possibly to kill you, but let's not mention that now. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances. (If there were extenuating circumstances for Darth Vader, surely there were some for this young doctor.)

But this doctor was working for Palpatine.

Don't wait, and he felt Vader's rage at the doctor vibrate through his head.

Yeah. Maybe Cris should die in his sleep. Right now. It would be more merciful than he deserved— painless and silent. Like Two-OneBee said, One moment I didn't exist and the next moment I did. Only vice-versa.

"Go back to sleep," Luke Suggested in a whisper. Maybe Andres wasn't weak-minded, but the suggestion would help.

"Just go!"

He inclined his head and in that motion, he nudged the gas control valve on the heater.

Good, his father said.

His limbs were tense as the physician's nervous gaze followed him while he sashayed down the hall. For petty revenge, he pretended to wave at someone in the social room. Outside, he headed back toward the medical center, trying to appear calm though he was anything but. It might take a couple hours for enough gas to accumulate to a lethal level. Until then, he could change his mind—

No. Cris Andres was a liar and a traitor, not a friend. Not a friend at all. Cris Andres was setting up him and his father to die (or worse) at Palpatine's hand.

Upload the virus before you delete the office files. There must be no trace of the physician's betrayal or the information he has on you. Your blood reveals much that we must conceal. If he has hidden backups, they must be destroyed as soon his body is discovered. You will arrange that, and I will have this Sinthus taken care of.

What if they were wrong? What if there was an innocent explanation? Dad…wait. I think I should to talk to Cris first. I don't want to kill people when we aren't certain.

We are certain. And when did you develop such delicate qualms? Without confirmation of intent, you destroyed a ship that you presumed was a hijacker and had no remorse about those lives.

That was entirely different. They shot at me.

This is no different. We are under attack. Remember what I told you about difficult choices. I chose you over your sister. Now you must choose between me and your new friend. I need you to be a hero, Luke, not a coward.

I'm not a coward! Pain at those words twisted around his fury. His back was against an invisible wall, and he couldn't move, couldn't find a way around it. He had hoped that Cris Andres would be someone he could confide in and that what he'd said was true: patient confidentiality was his priority. But it wasn't true; he'd done just the opposite. Whether their information had already been shared with Palpatine or not, the doctor had betrayed both Luke and Anakin Skywalker personally and professionally.

But what if Luke had acted too hastily? Maybe he should turn off the heater. Maybe Cris didn't have to die. Maybe he could be turned in and be tried as a spy— but he wasn't exactly a spy against the Alliance, was he? Maybe he was one of the Emperor's Jedi-hunters. Maybe—

Stop delaying. Get back into the office and destroy the information.

He looked across to the the dirt road that led to the hangar where Yahoo was resting. That was reality. Why couldn't he have that? Why couldn't his life be ordinary? Why did he have to be a freak? Why couldn't he be a simple pilot? Why did the Force have to wreck everything?

If you won't do it, I will. And that will result in many more casualties on your base.

Luke stopped, his jaw clenched. Don't threaten me! I'll do it— but I hate this, he snapped. Just so you know.

I know, his father acknowledged with a gentle understanding that shattered his defiance. It is imperative. We have no choice.

Yeah. But I have a bad feeling about all of it. And...Dad?

Yes, Bug?

All I ever wanted was to be a hero.

A deep, sudden sadness woke inside him, and he felt it reflected in his father.

So did I, Luke. So did I.

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NOTE: The Truth: Interludes, Chapter 14: Night Shift, follows this chapter. Boss visits Luke who, unbeknownst to the commander, is riddled with doubts and guilt about his actions a couple hours earlier.